THE 


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OR) THE 

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BY If A.B.B.Y HAZBt.j 

Author of the ‘ Burglars f ‘ Belle of Boston ‘ Nun of St. Ursula { Rival Chieftains fyc 


BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED BY F. GLEASON, 1 1-2 TREMONT ROW. 

1845. 


Entered according to Act of Congress, by F. Gleason, in the year 1845, in the Clerk’s Office, of the District 

Court of Massachusetts. 
















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NOTE TO THE READER. 

VVe are again pleased to see our humble efforts in print, and we are encouraged 
to perceive that our enterprising publisher deems the present production worthy of 
a more beautiful dress than any in which we have yet had the honor of appearing. 

The novel, as our title indicates, is a ‘Romance in Real Life,’ and most of our 
readers, that are acquainted with the locale of its principal scenes, will accord to us 
the rare merit of writing a novel not wholly imaginative. Facts, startling facts, 
abound in every chapter, and to corroborate which we can produce abundant testi- 
mony. 

To the great mass of the reading community, who have rendered our previous 
productions far more successful than we ever dared anticipate, we submit the ‘West 
Point Cadet,’ honestly believing that it will be perused with an interest paramount to 
that excited by any of the author’s former works. 

HARRY HAZEL. 

Cambridge, August, 1845. 






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THE WEST-POINT CADET. 

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CHAPTER I. 

A Magnificent Rail at P ’s. The Belles of the Metropolis. EJJie Stan - 

wood. The Gay Southerner. The West-Point Cadet. Rivalry . Singular 
conduct of the Southerner . 

‘ She was the very prettiest of girls, 

Of a bright cheek and a voluptuous eye ; 

Of ivory forehead shaded by dark curls, 

And pouting lip of a most delicate die ; 

Mild, lovely, sentimental and romancing 
Partial withal, especially to dancing.’ 

J. O. Sargent, 



rilliant indeed was the 
assemblage of city beaux 
and belles that graced 
the fashionable Saloon of 
that Prince of Dancing 

[Masters, Signor P 

'on a bright starlight eve- 
ning in the month of De- 
cember 183- It was by far the most mag- 
nificent fete of the season ; and an unusual 
number of invitations having been distrib- 
uted among that class who claim to be the 
aristocratic division of our population, a 
large concourse honored the occasion with 
their presence. The ball had been a most 
prominent topic for conversation for many 
weeks previously. Extensive prepara- 
tions were made by those who had the 
management of the affair, aided by the co- 
operation of those who intended to be pres- 
ent, in rendering it by far the most splen- 
did dancing assembly that was ever got up 
in the tri-mountain city. Consequently, 
when evening came, and the hall was. illu- 


minated, and the glittering throng assem- 
bled, a scene presented itself, altogether too 
gorgeous to comport with the plain notions 
of the multitude composing what has often 
been termed the City of the Pilgrims, and 
better comporting with the entertainments 
of an Eastern Prince, or those of the no- 
bility of our transatlantic brethren. There 
was a display of costly laces, silks and sat- 
ins, embroidered, flounced and spangled to 
an extravagant degree; diamonds, emer- 
alds, topazes, amethysts, and other precious 
stones, sparkled in the form of bracelets, 
tiaras, necklaces, etc. It seemed that on 
this occasion each lady had determined to 
outvie all others in the elegance and rich- 
ness of attire and ornament. To some this 
splendid profusion lent an additional charm 
to their persons ; but from others, whose 

* Beauty unadorned is most adorned, 

it detracted materially. 

We have spoken only of the gorgeous- 
ness and richness of display made on tha 


10 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


occasion. It was also a scene of unsurpas- 
sing beauty and loveliness. There were 
sparkling black eyes, and mild blue eyes, 
and eyes like the gazelle — there were rosy- 
red cheeks, and snow-white cheeks, and 
cheeks of the fair brunette. The natural 
crowning ornament of woman, hung in 
raven and golden tresses upon snowy bos- 
oms, or braided upon the head and decora- 
ted with flowers and jewels. There were 
sylph-like figures flitting about with grace- 
ful and elastic steps ; figures dignified and 
commanding; and figures voluptuously 
beautiful. Then, what a variety of expres- 
sions were to be seen in the faces of the 
feminine portion of the assemblage. Here 
stood one with a countenance radiant with 
admiration and love, whose every word sent 
a pleasing thrill through the heart of him 
on whose arm she was gracefully leaning # 
There sat one with a modest, placid expres- 
sion, sweetly beautiful, and whose mild 
blue eyes,- partially concealed beneath long 
lashes, were bent upon the floor, and 
whenever they dared to look upward and 
chanced to encounter the look of one of 
the other sex, they would quickly fall and 
crimson shadows would instantaneously 
suffuse her lovely cheeks. Another, near 
by, with a dignified and haughty look, who 
smiled and frowned alternately ; whose ev- 
ery remark was spiced with a sprinkling of 
irony or satire, and who looked upon all 
modest or simple beauties with contempt. 
Still another, but how different from the 
last — how beautiful, how seraphic was the 
expression of her pearly white face — pos- 
sessing charms too pure for earth, and 
which even angels might have gazed upon 
with delight. And yet another, brilliant, 
elegant, and gay, but wild as the untamed 
antelope — her large hazel eyes as bright and 
fiery as the eagle’s, piercing and flashing as 
sparkling gems — her mouth displaying two 
rows of white polished teeth of nature’s 
own handiwork, far more perfect and reg- 
lar than was ever attained by the most skill- 
ful of the dental art. In the language of 
the Scottish bard — 

‘ A hair-brain’d, sentimental trace 

Was strongly marked in her face; 

A wildly, witty, dazzling grace 

Shone full upon her. ’ 


There were others whose features denot- 
ed every passion — every feeling — every 
sentiment ; and from among these last we 
have taken one who is to figure as the hero- 
ine of these pages. 

Effie Stanwood was her name — a bright 
and beautiful being of ‘ sweet sixteen,’ with 
golden hair, and laughing blue eyes ; a lily- 
white complexion; rose-red cheeks, and 
carmine-tinged lips. Her figure was sym- 
metrically beautiful, and full of grace, and 
sported little hands and little feet — the lat- 
ter not so small as a Chinese lady’s, nor so 
large as a Mantaree squaw’s — but just large 
enough to be pretty and useful — and every 
body knows the true standard of measure- 
ment for a lady’s foot. 

But her lovely features, her golden hair, 
or the grace and perfection of her limbs, 
weigh but little in our estimation when 
contrasted with the sweetness of her dispo- 
sition — the richness of intellect which she 
possessed — and the lady-like accomplish- 
ments which she had acquired in an emi- 
nent degree. 

Effie was the pride and ornament of the 
reputed wealthy and aristocratic family of 
Stanwoods; and her beauty and attainments 
were the wonder and envy of all who com 
posed her circle of acquaintance ; and, in 
deed, among those who had caught but the 
casual glance of her love-beaming eye she 
was an object of peculiar interest. 

This evening was the first of Effie’s ap- 
pearance at a public assembly, and the 
great numbers in attendance, together with 
the unrivalled splendor of the scene, caused 
at first in her a slight embarrassment, and 
heightened the rosy hue of her cheeks, but 
she eventually recovered her wonted ease, 
and joined in the festivities with all the in- 
terest, pleasure and confidence of her more 
experienced companions. 

I have as yet said nothing of the various 
groups of gay and fashionable young gen- 
tlemen, who stood around the hall in the 
early part of the evening, engaged in ar- 
ranging their matters ot etiquette for the 
evening, and occasionally glancing with ad- 
miring eyes upon the blaze of feminine 
beauty arrayed before them. The gentle- 
men, it must be confessed, were far behind 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


11 


the ladies in the costliness of their appar- 
el, but they were as richly and as showily 
dressed, as the extremity of the Parisian 
modes would allow. 

On this particular occasion the spacious 
Saloon was fitted up in a style of dazzling 
splendor ; and from the gorgeous chande- 
liers a brilliant light was suffused, rivalled 
only by the brightness of the noon-day sun. 
The large and costly mirrors, reaching to 
the floor, reflected a thousand times the 
animated throng, together with the superb 
and magnificent drapery and other decora- 
tions of the saloon. A full orchestra of 
musicians enlivened the scene with the 
sublime and spirit-moving strains of Rossi- 
ni, Auber, Strauss, and other gifted compo- 
sers. The banquet, too, which was served 
up in an adjoining apartment, was expen- 
sively luxurious, and it added much to the 
spirit and zest of the occasion. Altogether 
it was the most brilliant ball that had ever 
been got up in our New-England metrop- 
olis, and it created quite a sensation among 
the beaux and belles of the aristocracy. 

Effie Stanwood was accompanied to this 
gay scene of pleasure by her father, who, 
placing her for the evening under the pro- 
tection of a gallant young Southron, an 
acquaintance of the family, retired to his 
home, seemingly feeling perfectly satisfied 
with his substitute, of whom he had a high 
opinion on account of his rich connexions 
in the sunny South; and, although Mr. 
Stanwood had never even hinted or insin- 
uated such a thing, yet it was a thought al- 
most uppermost in his mind, that George 
Sumpter was precisely such an individual 
on whom he would gladly bestow his ami- 
able and beautiful daughter; yet this was 
strange, for there were some doubtful points 
in his character, that Mr. Stanwood could 
not have been unapprized of ; nevertheless 
he frequently invited Sumpter to his house, 
and even endeavored to make his visits 
agreeable by tasking the polite accomplish- 
ments of Miss Effie. 

It is true that the young Southron was a 
handsome, gentlemanly appearing man ; 
generous and even lavish of his money; 
possessing a collegiate education, and tal- 
ents of a respectable order. But he was a 


person whose character was fully imbued 
with those false notions of honor peculiar 
to southern bloods ; he could not brook an 
insult without seeking immediate revenge, 
nor even forgive those who departed one 
iota from the established conventionalisms 
of the polished circle where he associated. 
And from this feeling he was frequently 
subjected to humiliating annoyances and 
petty grievances which he could not avert, 
and for which he could not with impunity, 
in this peace-loving community, seek re- 
dress ; consequently among the many who 
first courted his society, there were even- 
tually several who became of necessity his 
enemies. 

To such a personage was Effie Stan- 
wood, for this occasion, consigned by her 
father, although there were others present, 
in her opinion, who would have been quite 
as agreeable. Sumpter was excessively 
pleased at what he termed the old gentle- 
man’s courtesy, and with an air of triumph 
he boasted among his companions of his 
good fortune, and with exultation and inef- 
fable delight he pointed out to them his 
beautiful charge. He determined that his 
undivided efforts throughout the evening 
fihould tend towards rendering her enjoy- 
ment, and now that an interrupted oppor- 
tunity occurred, he would strive to ingra- 
tiate himself into her favor, and if possible 
win a smile of love from her sweet lips. 

But his joyful anticipations were not des- 
tined to be realized, for it so happened that 
this resolution if pursued, would be the 
precise mode to mar the pleasure which 
she also had fondly anticipated ; but how 
to avoid his importunities was a matter 
predominant in her mind. 

When the opening quadrille was called, 
Sumpter, with a satisfied air, led Effie to 
the floor, and at the conclusion of the dance 
and after excusing himself to Effie, retired 
for a short time to the drawing-room. 

Meanwhile, a young and exceedingly 
handsome fellow, in the neat uniform of a 
West-Point Cadet, made fiis appearance in 
the saloon. He had a noble and command- 
ing look, yet his countenance bore strong 
indications of amiability of temper, and a 
heart of magnanimity and generosity, and 


12 


THE WEST PCINT CADET. 


from his full dark eye beamed an intelli- 
gence that could not be mistaken. For 
a few moments he directed his gaze where- 
ever the attraction seemed most dazzling, 
and at length his eyes became fixed upon 
a less dazzling object, but infinitely more 
beautiful, and none other than Efiie, our 
heroine. A gleam of wonder and delight 
excited his noble features, and after feasting 
his eyes for a few moments upon the at- 
tractive object, her gaze met his, and a mu- 
tual recognition took place. He approach- 
ed the blushing girl, and after the usual ci- 
vilities he took a seat beside her. 

‘It gives me joy to meet you!’ said the 
young Cadet, who was none other than Eu- 
gene Merrill, one of Effie’s early compan- 
ions and playmates, who had on that day 
arrived in his native town. 

‘ Why, Eugene, it is indeed you !’ said she, 
with her face illumined with delight, and a 
deeper shade of crimson suffusing her 
lovely cheeks. ‘When did you arrive in 
town ?’ 

‘ This morninjr ! 1 called at your house 

but an hour since and there learned that 
you were here.’ 

‘ I regret exceedingly that I was not at 
home to greet you.’ 

‘ Nay. nay, Efiie, you would not be ab- 
sent from this gay scene of pleasure ?’ 

‘ Indeed, I would ; I do not find that en- 
joyment here, that I had been led to antici- 
pate. But Eugene,’ continued she, playful- 
ly changing the subject ; ‘ how queerly you 
look. You have grown so tall and have on 
such a peculiar dress that you scarcely ap- 
pear like yourself. It was some time after 
you came into the hall that I recognised 
you.’ 

‘ Every one that formerly knew me ex- 
presses surprise that I have attained to 
man’s stature ; and as for my dress I am 
compelled to wear it, whether it is fitting 
the occasion or not. It is an imperative 
regulation that every Cadet shall wear the 
uniform of the Academy whether he be on 
duty or on furlough.’ 

‘ 1 am sure it is very becoming to you,’ 
she replied. 

‘ Now, Efiie, you have criticised me so 
closely, allow me to express my surprise at 


the change I observe in you. When I last 
visited your house I saw a merry, spright- 
ly, pretty little girl, skipping about in great 
glee, and now I behold ’ 

‘ An ugly old maid, I suppose you intend 
to say,’ interrupted Efiie, with an assumed 
haughtiness. 

‘ Nay, nay, Miss Efiie— a charming young 
lady!’ 

‘ Oh, fie ! Mister Eugene,’ said she, with 
a slight stress on the ‘ Mister ;’ you shall not 
make fun of me within my hearing.’ 

‘ But I speak earnestly and truly !’ 

‘ I protest, Eugene, against your flattery. 
Why do you not go and bestow your idle 
compliments on some one of those richly 
dressed ladies grouped before that large 
mirror ?’ 

‘My judgment and taste would pass me 
by this whole congregation of dazzling 
beauty to bestow even one glance upoia 
thee.’ 

‘Why what an inveterate flatterer you 
have become ! I trust that your West Point 
professors have taught you something be- 
sides flattery.’ 

‘Believe me, I have learned little else be- 
sides solving Mathematical problems, aim 
a cannon, shoulder a musket, drill a com- 
pany of raw recruits,’ and ’ 

‘ Compliment the ladies !’ added Efiie, 
laughingly. 

‘Well, well, if you persist in having it 
so ; but bear in mind that I never bestow 
praise where Ido not think it is richly mer- 
ited. Who is that dashing, impertinent 
looking fellow,’ continued Merrill, ‘staring 
so frowningly upon me ?’ 

It was Sumpter, who had for some time 
stood on the opposite side of the hall, view- 
ing with disdainful looks the happy inter- 
view of Eugene and Efiie. 

She turned her eyes and met the angry 
gaze of the young Southron. 

‘ Do you allude to the man with the mus- 
tache ?’ asked Efiie. 

‘ The same. Who is he?’ 

‘ He is — that is — ,’ stammered she, ‘ he is 
a southern gentleman — an acquaintance of 
our family, under whose protection my fa- 
ther placed me for this evening.’ 

The expression of Eugene’s countenance 



















































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15 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


changed from complacency to doubt and 
apprehension. That this man was a rival 
seemed probable — the words of Miss Stan- 
wood that he was a friepd of the family — 
that her father had placed her under his 
protection, were too significant to mean 
nothing. Such thoughts flitted rapidly 
across his mind, while his eyes were fixed 
upon the floor. 

‘ Your protector?’ asked he, assuming an 
undisturbed air. 

‘ For this evening only,’ added Eflie, ob- 
serving a singular change in the demeanor 
of her friend. 

‘ May I presume to inquire his name ?’ 
asked he, in a formal manner. 

‘ George Sumpter.’ 

This gentleman now approached Eflie, 
and saluted her. 

‘My friend, Mr. Merrill, Mr. Sumpter,’ 
said Eflie, introducing them. 

The gentlemen nodded coldly to each 
other, when Mr. Sumpter, said to Eflie, as 
mildly as his indignant feelings would ad- 
mit : 

‘Miss Stanwood,’ said he, ‘1 will take 
your card of dances and have the blanks 
filled, with your permission.’ 

Without making any reply she placed in 
his hands the card, and one after another, 
in the course of the next five minutes, he 
led up several of his most intimate acquain- 
tances and introduced them. He then re- 
turned the card, at the same time informing 
her that the remaining blank places, if per- 
fectly agreeable, she might consider as him- 
self. 

‘ Excessively modest,’ remarked Eflie, as 
Sumpter left her. ‘ Do you not think my 

rotector rather partial ?’ said she, handing 
the card to Merrill ; ‘ he has secured me 
five gentlemen for partners, and reserved 
seven blank places for his own name.’ 

‘ Exceedingly selfish, if I may be per- 
mitted to express my opinion,’ remarked 
Eugene. 

‘ It is shameful,’ said she with emphasis ; 
I am determined to dance with no gentle- 
man seven times. It seems to me highly 
improper.’ 

These remarks caused Merrill’s face again 
to brighten. 


‘Then,’ said he, ‘you will allow your old 
friend the pleasure of your hand for one or 
two dances at least.’ 

* Yes, Eugene,’ replied Eflie, writing with 
her pencil ; ‘ there — I have written your 
name for four dances, leaving three dances 
for Mr. Sumpter — once I have already 
been his partner. This arrangement is 
certainly equitable, and if it does not satis- 
fy the gentleman 1 shall decline all engage- 
ments.’ 

‘You do me much honor,’ replied Eu- 
gene, delighted with her ingenuous and in- 
dependent spirit. 

Their conversation was now interrupted 
by the calling of a new quadrille, and Mr. 
Sumpter approached and led the lovely 
Miss Stanwood a second time to the floor. 

Merrill did not dance, but waited patient- 
ly until the number was called which stood 
opposite his name. 

At length the quadrille, which Merrill 
had patiently waited for, was announced, 
and he arose to lead Miss Stanwood to the 
floor, but at the moment he extended his 
hand, he was rudely crowded aside by 
Sumpter who had suddenly made his ap- 
proach on witnessing the intentions of the 
young Cadet. 

‘ Sir, I have a prior claim to this lady’s 
hand,’ said Sumpter; ‘she is engaged to 
me for the next dance.’ 

‘I appeal to the lady herself!’ replied 
Merrill.’ 

‘ I have taken the responsibility of en- 
gaging myself to Mr. Merrill for this and 
two other dances as my card will show,’ 
said Eflie, with an air of dignified inde- 
pendence. 

Sumpter looked abashed at being thwart- 
ed by Miss Stanwood so decisively, turned 
upon his heel and walked away, muttering 
silent curses upon the stranger whom he 
had himself insulted. 

Eugene Merrill and Eflie Stanwood now 
walked across the saloon hand in hand. — 
By the politeness of the Master of Ceremo- 
nies, the courteous and affable P , the 

head of the first sett, as a mark of distinc- 
tion, was assigned to them. All eyes were 
concentrated upon the graceful couple as 


16 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


they moved through the figures of the 
dance, and there were not among that as- 
semblage of beauty and fashion, a gentle- 
man and lady who attracted such marked 
attention as did Eugene and Effie. She 
seemed the personification of modesty, 
grace and loveliness — while his well pro- 
portioned and marly figure, his handsome 
features, intelligent expression, and unas- 
suming manners, denoted him truly as one 
of ‘ Nature’s noblemen.’ If the old saying 
be a true one, that ‘ matches are sometimes 
made in Heaven,’ none would have doubt- 
ed for a moment that their names were re- 
corded together. The kind glance of Effie’s 
large blue eye, occasionally caught the ten- 
der radiance beaming from Merrill’s, and 
mutually spoke volumes to jhe hearts of 
each other. Every one is aware that the 
sense of sight is of a more spiritual and el- 
vated character than any of the other sen- 
ses, and that thoughts are transferred to one 
another with the lapidity of lightning — 
the organ of vision then may be not inap- 
propriately termed the ‘ magnetic telegraph’ 
of the heart ; and we are firmly convinced 
that lj ,va. more meaning conveyed 
from he.* iO heart in the occasional glan- 
ces of Eugene and Miss Effie than could 
have been expressed in. half a score of 
closely printed pages. 

It is unnecessary for us to detail the many 
trifling incidents which followed through- 
out the evening after Merrill’s first appear- 
ance on the floor. Suffice it here to remark 
that she performed her engagements strict- 
ly, however disagreeable several of them 
seemed to her ; and while the partner of 
Sumpter, she seemed abstracted from the 
enlivening music and exciting movements 
of the dance ; an expression of coldness 
rested upon her countenance, to dispel 
which, and gain from her one complacent 
look, all his loquacious efforts were ineffec- 
tual. 

During Effie’s last dance with Eugene, 
he offered to escort her home. 

‘ I willingly and gladly accept your com- 
pany,’ said she, * provided my father does 
not come for me. But I fear my protector, 
as he calls himself, will think that I slight 
him.’ 


‘ Let me not interfere, Effie, with any en- 
gagement that you have made with Mr. 
Sumpter, or any one else. I would not be 
thought intrusive.’ 

‘ Oh no, Eugene, I have made none ex- 
cept to you.’ 

‘ I perceive that Mr. Sumpter eyes me 
suspiciously. I doubt not that he will feel 
very indignant at my conduct.’ 

‘He has no reason for such feelings. He 
has not expressed even a wish to see me 
home. You have kindly invited me to go 
with you, and I gladly accept the invita- 
tion.’ 

This arrangement, as the young Cadet 
had anticipated, was not consonant with the 
intentions of Sumpter, who, having so much 
authority from her father, supposed that she 
would not presume to listen to such a pro- 
posal from another. 

The hours of the gay assembly flitted 
speedily by, and three o’clock had arrived 
before any indication was made by the con- 
course to separate. 

Effie now expressed her desire to Merrill 
to leave the hall, and leaning upon his arm 
he escorted her to the drawing-room, where 
he left her to prepare for going home, while 
he stepped out for a moment to engage a 
carriage. 

When he returned he found Sumpter 
standing beside the door of the ladies’ 
room, evidently awaiting the reappearance 
of Miss Stanwood. Merrill, not wishing to 
appear rude, retired to the opposite door, 
where he could observe any one that might 
appear. After a lapse of five minutes, Effie 
made her appearance, when Sumpter pla- 
ced himself beside her and offered his arm, 
while Merrill appeared on the other side. 
In the confusion of the moment, Effie had 
nearly placed her arm within Sumpter’s, 
ere she discovered that it was his. She 
immediately withdrew from his side and 
said : 

‘ Mr. Sumpter, I am engaged to go home 
with Mr. Merrill.’ 

‘ I claim precedence by virtue of the ex- 
press wish of your father,’ said Sumpter, 
again offering his arm. 

‘ My father gave me no instructions to 
that effect.’ 


17 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


‘ It matters not ; he placed you under my 
protection, and I shall be considered res- 
ponsible for your safety,’ remarked Sump- 
ter, angrily. 

‘ Oh, never fear for her safety,’ rejoined 
Merrill.’ 

‘ By whose authority do you interfere ?’ 
asked Sumpter. 

‘By the lady’s herself, and I presume she 
is perfectly competent to judge of matters 
so nearly concerning her,’ answered Mer- 
rill, calmly. 

Effie now took the arm of Eugene, by 
whom she was escorted to the carriage, 
followed closely by Sumpter. Merrill had 


assisted Effie into the vehicle, and was in 
the act of getting in himself, when Sump- 
ter leaped forward, pushed Merrill aside 
with the intention of usurping his place, 
and as he placed one foot upon the step, he 
was seized by the strong arm of the young 
Cadet, who, without a scarcely perceptible 
effort hurled the impertinent and intrusive 
southerner to the sidewalk. 

Merrill leaped into the vehicle and drove 
on. Sumpter regained his feet, overtook 
the carriage, and, with a malignant empha- 
sis, exclaimed to his antagonist : ‘ We shall 
meet again !* 



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> 




CHAPTER II. 


The Young Southerner . Resolves to Fight a Duel Difficulty in penning a 
Challenge. The Slave. An Original Character. Scenes partaking both of 
the Serious and Ludicrous. 

‘Tremble, ye base ! affect to scorn 
The man with noble passions born, 

Who drinks not of your bigot draught. 

But know, that while with justice fraught 
He dares excite the black-wing’d storm, 

Know, that the manifold injuries 
He dares with rigor to chastise, 

He never dares perform.’ 

Anon. 


iHf|illF E w short hours only this particular time impressed with some- 


passed away, when : thing of greater import than legal lore. He 
g um p ter) s till had with great pains written several notes, 
MpllPagitated by the unpleas- j all addressed to the same person, and all of 
mmSM Mlpjlfant events of the last the same import, but differently expressed, 
ight, arose from his and neither one of them appeared to give 
SjHf couch where he had him satisfaction. He threw down his pen, 
JUbeen unable to obtain jumped up and began pacing the floor. 
restTand leaving bis room repaired to the His countenance wore a dark and sinister 
office of a noted Counsellor, with whom he look, his lips were compressed and a fiend- 
was at that time studying the profession of lsl > smile curled his lip. 
law. It was at an earlier hour than legal ‘Confound my stupidity !’ muttered he to 
gentlemen are accustomed to commence himself. ‘ Singular that I cannot indite so 
their daily avocations, consequently he simple a matter as a challenge ! But I am 
found himself with no other company than resolved that he shall have one ! My ven- 
geance shall follow this upstart Cadet until 
my purposes are fully accomplished and my 
wrongs redressed. I know that it is in di- 
rect violation of the statutes of this com- 
monwealth to give or accept a challenge ; 
but what do I care — laws are not made to 


his negro servant, who was employed in 
sweeping out the office. Entering the anti- 
room, he threw himself into a chair, which 
he drew towards a table, and commenced 
writing. Around him were shelves of an- 
tiquated musty tomes, covered with dust 
and cobwebs, clearly indicating that most ( reach lawyers. Yes— I am determined to 
of them had not for a long lime been dis- call him out or cowhide him in the street at 
turbed ; while upon the table at which he all hazards ! 1 feel that he has insulted me 
was seated more modern works carelessly j — grossly insulted me — thwarted my fond- 
reclined. The student’s mind seemed at est wishes even in the eyes of many of my 


19 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


familiar acquaintances ; and now, should I 
make no demonstrations towards avenging 
myself they will deem my conduct coward- 
ly, knowing my views upon affairs of this 
nature. Let me see — I must write it in a 
bravado style— it will frighten him — he’s 
nothing but a Yankee, and of course has 
not the courage of a ribbed nose baboon. 
It is true he has a military education, but 
pistol-shooting is not taught at West Point ; 
here again I have the advantage, for I have 
the reputation, at least, of being a dead 
shot ! and this ‘ reputation’ will undoubted- 
ly serve me as well as if I were a second 
Nimrod. He dare not meet me, and I will 
summon him to account boldly and fear- 
lessly ! Resuming his seat he took up a 
pen and wrote the following : 

“2- Court Street, £ 
Boston, Dec. — , 183-. $ 

Sir, — 

Your conduct towards me, last evening, 
was of a character too gross and aggravat- 
ing for me to pass lightly over ; therefore, if 
you style yourself a gentleman, which your 
standing in society leads me to suppose, 
I doubt not you will give me a meeting as 
early as possible, thereby saving you the 
mortification of being posted as a poltroon 
and a puppy. The bearer of this will set- 
tle all the preliminaries according to usage 
regulating affairs of honor. 

I decline receiving any apology that can 
be made, either written or verbal. 

(Signed) Geo. Sumpter. 

To Eugene Merrill, } 

Cadet, West-Point > 

Military Acad.” ) 

4 That sounds more to the purpose,’ said 
Sumpter. 4 He cannot avoid me after such 
a summons without irretrievably disgracing 
himself. And now for a proper man to be 
my second in this affair,’ continued he 
thoughtfully. It is difficult to find one in 
this anti-duelling, puritanical city. Let me 
see — Ned Dawson — ah! the very man. — 
He’s all fight — loves duelling better than 
anything else in the world !’ 

At this moment the young negro opened 
the door. 


‘Jeff!’ said he, ‘is that your grinning 
countenance ?’ 

‘Yaas, massa, dis be me.’ 

‘Do you know, Jeff, where my friend 
Dawson resides ?’ 

‘ Massa Dawson ! 1 tinks I does,’ replied 
Jeff, scratching his head. ‘Ib you mean 
dat chap what hab de flummux here one 
night, I knows zacly, for I had a hard job 
getting him home dat time.’ 

‘You shouldn’t remember such things, 
Jeff’ 

‘ I had forgot ’um Massa — neber should 
hab tought ob him ’gin ib you hadn’t put it 
into dis chile’s head.’ 

‘Well, well, let that pass, do you know 
where he lodges ?’ 

‘Yaas, massa, jess as well as I knows 
where I ties up mysef. It’s on toder side 
ob Bacon Hill, on de souf side ob Bullknap 
treet, tree doors from Jumbo Jum’s wittlin’ 
sullar.’ 

‘You needn’t be so explicit, Jeff. Run 
quickly to his house ’ 

‘Yaas Massa!’ interrupted the negro. 

‘—and tell him that 1 have an affair on 
my hands ’ 

‘ I doesn’t see any ting on yer hands, mas- 
sa !’ 

‘ Shut up, you black scoundrel !’ sharply 
exclaimed Sumpter. ^ Tell him that 1 re- 
quire his assistance immediately.’ 

Jeff started. 

‘ Come back herq — you need not tell him 
any thing.’ 

‘ Keep mum, hey ?’ 

‘ Keep still while I address him a note.’ 

Sumner wrote as follows : 

“ Thursday, A. M. 

“ Dear Dawson — 

Congratulate me. I have the happi- 
ness of making known to y«u that I have at 
length succeeded in getting myself into a 
bit of a scrape. Nothing less, my dear fel- 
low, than an ‘ affair of honor.’ I am one of 
the principals and the challenger. Know- 
ing that you, above all things else, delight 
in sport of this nature, you shall participate 
on the occasion — I appoint you my second. 
Come to my room, at the Albion, at eight 
o'clock — be punctual — where we can dis- 


20 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


cuss the matter fully over a bottle or two of 
* Schreider.’ 

Yours, faithfully, 

Sumpter. 

P. S. I dreamed of ‘ hair-triggers’ this 
morning.” 

; There, Jeff,’ said Sumpter, after he had 
affixed the seal, take this note, addressed 
to Merrill, to the Post-Office, and that one 
to Dawson’s lodgings as speedily as your 
long heels can carry you.’ 

‘ I’ll be dar, massa, in de twinklum ob a 
possum’s eye,’ said Jeff, rolling about the 
white of his eyes.’ 

‘ Wait for an answer.’ 

‘ Oh yaas, massa, I’ll ax him to tell me 
tree, four answers.’ 

The negro bounded suddenly into the 
street, and as rapidly as his nimble limbs 
could carry him pursued his way towards 
the head of Belknap street, leading from 
Beacon street, where we shall announce his 
arrival in due time. 

Sumpter had brought the negro, whom 
we have given the cognomen of Jeff, from 
his father’s plantation in one of the Caroli- 
nas. He was a slave, about fifteen years of 
age, and possessed considerable shrewdness 
and cunning, which qualities caused his 
young master to make quite a pet of him. 
Sumpter had no fears of Jeff’s making any 
attempt to seek protection under the laws 
of Massachusetts, and thus be freed from 
the bonds of slavery, from the fact that his 
own father and mother were then slaves 
upon Mr. Sumpter’s plantation. Yet some 
demonstrations were made by several abo- 
litionists to ensure his freedom, by endeav- 
oring to instil into his young mind the bles- 
sings of liberty, but all their philanthropic 
efforts failed, for Jeff either did not appre- 
ciate the idea of becoming a freeman, or 
prefered remaining in his present condi- 
tion 

Jeff soon reached the house where Daw- 
son resided, rang the bell, enquired for that 
gentleman, and was conducted directly to 
his apartment. A brief descripfion of that 
worthy, which we shall strive to render in- 
telligible to the reader, will not be deemed 
out of place here. 


Before a comfortable grate of burning 
anthracite coal, and in a large armed rock- 
ing chair, sat or rather reclined a thin- vis- 
aged, slight-formed, sallow-complexioned 
young man, whose nether limbs occupied 
two common chairs, placed far enough 
apart to admit the bowl of a huge hookah ? 
from which, through its twisted and coiled 
tube, he was drawing into his mouth the 
smoke of a mixture of opium and finely- 
flavored Turkish tobacco, and from thence 
it was leisurely emitted in wreaths, globes, 
and a variety of other shapes, which the 
aforesaid gentleman watched and contem- 
plated, with the most exquisite satisfaction 
as they melted into the air above him. He 
had black piercing eyes, and raven locks 
which strayed in knotted and tangled con- 
fusion over his shoulders. We have said 
that he was thin-visaged — he was even ca- 
daverous-looking ; and although he was not 
upwards of twenty-one years of age, his 
thin, wrinkled skin indicated that he had 
reached middle life. He seemed the per- 
sonification of happiness, and occasionally 
as he smiled and drew the amber-mouthed 
hookah from his lips, he displayed two rows 
of fine pearl-white teeth, which, with his 
bright eyes and intellectually cast forehead, 
relieved the otherwise disagreeable features 
of his countenance. His black suit, although 
of fine fabric and genteelly made, looked 
rurty, and was indeed almost worn thread- 
bare. His cravat comported well with the 
rest of his wardrobe : it looked as if the 
owner had put it on when new, and had 
not allowed himself the trouble to remove 
it since. He wore upon his head a slouchy 
smoking cap, which had once boasted of a 
bright scarlet hue, but had changed into a 
dirty crimson ; and upon his elevated feet 
were a pair of embroidered slippers, with 
holes in the soles, and, altogether, appeared 
quite as antiquated as his person and the 
residue of his apparel. Upon a table near 
by were scattered sundry works of eminent 
literary geniuses, together with several 
sheets of manuscript, pen, ink, paper, &c., 
denoting that their owner frequently em- 
ployed himself in other matters besides 
smoking his favorite hookah. Over the 
mantel-piece were suspended a pair of foils 


MIDNIGHT SURPRISE. 



Mr. Stan wood frightened at a supposed Apparition , hut soon discovers that it 
his daughter , who makes him a visit in her flight-robes. 

























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0 

































23 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


and wire-masks to match, also a pair of 
boxing gloves, which clearly illustrate an- 
other prominent trait of his character. 

Such was Edward Dawson — or Ned 
Dawson as he was familiarly called — at the 
period of which we are now writing. He 
was a southerner of respectable and even 
wealthy parentage, and was sent to Yale 
College at the age of sixteen, from whence 
he was expelled during his Junior term, for 
challenging one of the tutors of that Insti- 
tution, among other flagrant misdemeanors, 
on account of some trivial offence which 
he conceived he had received from his tutor 
during recitation. He immediately return- 
ed home, and after the lapse of one year, he 
was banished from his father’s house for 
aiding one of his wild comrades to elope 
with his own sister; — she having become 
enamored of him, and her father positively 
refusing to sanction the match and even 
denied him admission within his doors. 
This conduct incensed the feelings of the 
old gentleman so much at his son’s conduct 
that he gave him some few hundred dollars 
in money and banished him from his home 
for ten years ; with the instructions, that, 
after the term of banishment should expire, 
if he then returned absolutely reformed, he 
would again take him into favor ; but if on 
the contrary he should still find him reck- 
less and heedless, he would disinherit 
and banish him forever. 

At this critical period, Dawson happened 
to fall in with his friend and classmate, 
George Sumpter; and as the latter was on 
his way to Boston, Ned resolved to accom- 
pany him, and, if possible, to obtain a live- 
lihood by his pen, he having evinced con- 
siderable talent in poetical composition 
while at Yale College. 

Two years of Dawson’s banishment from 
his kindred and his home had now elapsed ; 
and, instead of the time being devoted as he 
had resolved, he wasted it partly in carous- 
ing and dissipating with his friends, partly 
in lounging, smoking opium and tobacco, 
and occasionally writing a few sentimental 
rhymes for the ‘ Lady’s Book,’ or for some 
other Magazine of the ‘feminine gender.’ 
The habit of smoking he indulged in to 
great excess — a habit irretrievably fixed up- 


on him — the effects of which were plainly 
visible in the sallowness of his complex- 
ion and in his enervated limbs. His money 
had long since been exhausted, and for 
some months he had been necessitated to 
enact the part of ‘ Jeremy Diddler,’ or in 
more explicit terms he lived by borrowing 
without paying, and by other means usually 
practised by the ‘ Man about Town ; and he 
was so admirably adapted to this sort of 
life, that he was always abundantly supplied 
with those articles which were his greatest 
luxuries and which constituted the chief 
part of his happiness. 

On the morning that Sumpter had sent 
Jeff to his lodgings he had employed him- 
self in smoking, as usual, and thus had 
soothed himself into a dreamy state of un- 
consciousness, from which he was aroused 
by a loud knocking at the door of his apart- 
ment. 

‘C-o-m-e!’ exclaimed he in a drawling 

O 

tone. 

The door slowly opened and the young 
Ethiopian stood grinning- before him. 

* Ah, Jeff— it’s you is it?’ 

‘ Yah ! I radertink ’tis dis chile,’ answer- 
ed the negro, scratching his wool. 

‘Well, Jeff, how’s your master?’ 

‘ Oh, massa, he be bery well, ony de deb- 
il got inter him dis mornin’ somehow or 
oder — he, he, haw, haw!’ 

‘ 1 should like to know what in ‘ de debil’ 
you’re grinning at ?’ 

‘Noffin, massa Dawson, I’se on’y ’tudyin’ 
rifmetic leetle.’ 

‘What do you mean, you young imp of 
darkness ?’ ejaculated Dawson. 

‘Why I wur jis a calkylatin’ massa Daw- 
son, ib it take tree chair for leetle man to 
set in, how many chair would ’em take to 
hole de Kentucky Giant ? He, he, he, haw, 
haw, yah ! yah ! whew ! !’ 

Dawson could not help smiling at the fa- 
cetiousness and comical phiz of the negro, 
but assuming a stern expression, he enquir- 
ed : 

‘What? come here to blackguard ? you 
little satirical devil !’ 

‘ N o, no, massa, keep cool, keep your tem- 
per down to de freezin’ pint !’ 


24 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


‘ What do you want, you little sooty son 
of thunder?’ demanded Dawson, fiercely. 

‘Dat’s jis what I wur gwan to tell ye. — 
Now keep cool and I’ll splain de hole biz- 
ness. Yah, yah, whew!’ 

‘ What’s the matter now, Jeff?’ 

‘ Dis room am so foggy dat it tickles my 
sneezer, dat’s all, ony 1 can’t hep laffin a 
dat twistified lookin’ ting you hab got in 
your mouf; — he, he, he, whew!’ 

‘ Well, Jeff, never mind what you see ! — 
Let’s know your errand at once. How’s 
your master ?’ 

‘I jis told you how dat de debil wur in 
him. He’s gwan to hab a fight.’ 

‘ Fight ?’ ejaculated Dawson, ‘what do you 
mean ?’ 

‘ Massa’s gwan to fought a duel !’ 

‘ Fight a duel ? come, come, Jeff, none of 
your tricks! Pshaw! Sumpter fight a du- 
el ? Why he hasn’t the pluck of a tame 
goose !’ 

‘Dat’s bery true, massa Dawson; but 
what 1 tells you is de trufe, de hole trufe, 
and noffin’ else, as de dark ob de Police 
Court says.’ 

‘ Who’s he going to fight with ?’ 

‘ Wall, I doesnt know dat. He telled me 
to locomotise my carcase up here a leetle 
swifter dan a streak ob litenin’, and to tell 
you dat he had an affair on his hands and 
wants your ’sistance.’ 

‘Is that all ?’ 

‘ Oh no, dere’s a billey — dat’ll splain de 
hole bizness. 1 

‘ You little tormenting imp of Satan, why 
didn’t you give me this in the first place ?’ 

‘Coz, my massa always tells me to ’bey 
orders, and he tole me to tell you what I 
hab jis tole you.’ 

Dawson read over the billet, kicked over 
the two chairs on which his nether limbs 
rested, jumped upon the floor, and seizing 
the hand of the wonder-struck negro, he 
shook it with infinite delight. 

‘ Good ! glorious !’ exclaimed he. ‘ You 
think there’ll be no backing out, Jeff?’ 

‘ No, massa Dawson— 1 guess when dey 
•ome to de scratch and dey ’gin to pace off, 
wid dere backs toward one anoder, dey’ll 
boff go ahead like a couple ob slowcomo- 


tive bullgines ! whew! heah! heah! What 
you tink, massa ?’ 

‘ I’ll prevent such a catastrophe as that, 
Jeff. I’ll spur him on — I’ll make him stand 
ground! Won’t it be gloiious? A Duel ? 
why, I had well nigh forgotten that there’s 
such a word in the English vocabulary. It’ll 
seem quite like old times ! Tell Sumpter 
I’ll be punctual to a second ! A duel in 
Boston? How it will make the Yankees 
stare ! Well, Jeff, have you done your er- 
rand ?’ 

‘ Yes, saah!’ 

‘ What in the devil do you wait for then ?’ 

‘ For furder ’ticulars, massa Dawson;’ 

‘ I have nothing further to say ! Begone ! 
you sooty son of Ethiopia !’ 

‘ Yes, saah ! I come up here like a streak 
ab litenin’, now I’ll wanish back like a Mis- 
sippy mud-scow. Now, doesn’t you forgit 
de duel, if you does I shall hab to fought 
mysef.’ 

‘Begone! instantly!’ commanded Daw- 
son, throwing a shoe-brush aimed at the 
negro’s cocoa-nut, which, fortunately, it 
missed. 

‘ You didn’t come it quite dat time, mas- 
sa,’ and Jeff left the apartment, singing : 

‘ When a buckra man come, 

Hole ’um gun up higher, 

Tell a nigga shute ’im. 

Nigga he tan fire.’ 

‘ Let me see,’ soliloquised Dawson, bes- 
towing a scrutinising look upon his appar- 
el, ‘ I am hardly in a fit trim to be engaged 
in an affair of honor. This coat is rather 
shabby — and these pants never ’ll do! I 
need a black suit thioughout. None but 
gentlemen should be engaged in such busi- 
ness, and how is it possible for one to be a 
gentleman without the assistance of a tai- 
lor ? Adam was’nt a gentleman until his 
necessity compelled him to turn Snip. It’s 
plain then — I can’t engage in this business 
unless I devise ways and means to sport a 
more genteel exterior. Query— how can it 
be obtained ? I’m deep in the books of al- 
most every tailor in the city. I’ll take a look 
over this paper,’ continued Dawson, taking 
up a penny daily, ‘and see if I cannot dis- 
cover the advertisement of some new es- 


I 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


tablishment, where the proprietor is very 
desirous of obtaining patronage. Here’s 
Wilson, Motley, Mears, Driscoll — never’ll 
do — I don’t even pretend to venture near 
their doors, and it makes me tremble when- 
ever I hear their names mentioned. Here’s 

let me see — “ Oak-Hall — fashionable — 

dog cheap— warranted — Sim ” &c.— 

Bless my stars — the very place — I’ll bestow 
my patronage there, and trust to luck in get- 
ting the habiliments on my back. So fan 
good ; but there’s another desideratum to 
make the character of a gentleman complete 
— money ! — I’m not the possessor of a fip — 
Gentlemen should’nt be engaged in duels 
with empty pockets — it’s worth a man’s rep- 
utation. Ha ! ha ! I have it — I’ll borrow of 
Sumpter — he’ll bleed freely in this emer- 
gency. Now all being settled I must pre- 
pare to visit my friend.’ 

#*#*### 

Evening came, and punctual to the hour 
Dawson entered the apartment of his friend 
Sumpter, who was striving to while away 
the tedious moments which intervened be- 
tween his supper and the time appointed for 
meeting his amiable friend, by snapping 
percussion caps with a pair of pistols which 
he had that day purchased. 

‘ Ah! you have come!’ exclaimed Sump- 
ter, as Dawson entered. ‘Ned, my dear 
fellow, give us your hand. I am overjoyed 
to see you, particularly at this critical time.’ 

‘ Thank you ; I am pleased to find you in 
such good spirits,’ remarked Dawson, as he 
seated himself in a luxurious rocking chair, 
and placed his feet upon an ottoman be- 
fore him. ‘ Comfortable, by Jove ! Now if 
I only had my hookah ! Sumpter, do j^ou 
keep such a thing as a pipe about the prem- 
ises ?’ 

‘No, but here’s some capital Havana ci- 
gars.’ 

‘Pooh! cigars — insipid. You should 
smoke a pipe, Sumpter. Get a hookah, 
like mine — some Turkish tobacco and a lit- 
tle opium, and I’ll fix you a luxury fit for 
the gods.’ 

‘ Do take a cigar, Ned — they are excellent 
I assure you.’ 

‘ I suppose I must, if you have nothing 
better. Now, George, about the duel !’ 


25 

‘ Capital ! isn’t it ?’ 

‘ I should say glorious ? There’s no gam- 
mon about it, is there, Sumpter?’ 

‘None at all — a bona Jide challenge — no 
apology, and no flinching.’ 

‘Good! Who’s the happy man ?’ asked 
Dawson. 

‘ Cadet Merrill !’ 

‘ Better yet. I’ve seen the fellow. Good 
pluck, keen eye, and a perfect gentleman. 
Couldn’t be better matched. He’s got the 
nerve and the sight for a duellist !’ 

‘ Are you joking in regard to this Cadet, 
or are you serious ?’ remarked Sumpter with 
a slightly faltering voice. 

‘Serious, by Jupiter; I wish myself his 
antagonist.’ 

‘ It is time that I had his answer ; perhaps 
the fellow will not fight ?’ 

‘Fight! he’s all fight! You couldn’t 
bluff him oft with a four inch howitzer 
loaded with grape shot !’ 

‘ Do you really think so, Dawson ? 

‘ Think so ? Know so ! How long is it 
since you despatched the challenge ?’ 

‘Since nine o’clock, this morning.’ 

‘ It is time that you had received his ac- 
ceptance. Such matters ought never to be 
delayed a moment. Punctilio is the word 
in affairs of honor! Were it my case, 
three-fourths of a second should not be un- 
necessarily lost.’ 

‘ Well, well, we must be patient, Ned. If 
it comes at all we shall surely receive it 
this evening. In the meanwhile let’s have 
a jovial time over a bottle or two of cham- 
pagne !’ 

Wine and refreshments were ordered, 
and our young southern bloods regaled 
themselves most bountifully. They passed 
a very merry evening, and from the pecu- 
liar actions of Sumpter, it was very evident 
that the exhilarating properties of the cham- 
pagne had their due effect upon his noddle. 
Dawson di ank deeply, but his habits were 
sure proof against becoming intoxicated on 
what he termed so simple a beverage as 
champagne ; he saw its effect upon Sump- 
ter and his mind changed from thoughts of 
the duel to his friend’s purse. 

The evening was now far advanced, and 
Ned was about to introduce the subject of 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


26 

finance, when a rap upon the door inter- 
rupted his intention. 

‘ Come in !’. halloed Sumpter. 

A servant entered qnd placed in his hand 
a letter. 

t By Jupiter ! ’tis from Merrill !’ exclaim- 
ed Dawson. ‘I know his hand-writing. 
He’s the boy for a bit of a brush !’ 

‘Think so?’ enquired Sumpter, attempt- 
ing to break the seal! 

‘ What’s the matter ? Your hand trem- 
bles ! You’ve got the palsy ! Give me the 
document!’ and snatching it from his hand 
Dawson opened it and read aloud as fol- 
lows: 

“Fridav Evening, 10 o’clock. 

George Sumpter : 

gi r Enclosed is a communication 

addressed to me, purporting to be from you. 
Believing that you are too much of a gen- 
tleman to show such a lack of good sense, 
good breeding and common decency, to 
have indicted this missive, I return it that 
you may be enabled to punish whoever has 
attempted to compromise your reputation 
by counterfeiting your autograph to such a 
low and insulting document. 

(Signed) Eugene Merrill.” 

< H— 11 and furies !’ exclaimed Sumpter in 
a rage. 

‘ Cool, by Jupiter !’ added Dawson. 

‘ Vengeance ! I swear !’ 

‘ This letter, I admit, is sufficient to pro- 
voke a war between two nations ! But let’s 
see, George, how your challenge reads.’ 

Dawson unfolded the enclosed and read 
the sanguinary billet. 

‘ I perceive,’ resumed Dawson, ‘ you do 
not understand the phraseology, duello. 
This never’ll do ! You must apologise for 
this; you must, by Jupiter! and I’ll dictate 
it!’ 

‘Never!’ shouted Sumpter, striking the 
table heavily with his clenched fist. 

‘ It is the only honorable course.’ 

‘ By heavens ! I scorn the suggestion ! 
This is insult upon insult ! The fellow’s a 
cowardly puppy, and I’ll post him as such 
This, Ned, it is apparent, is a miserable sub- 
terfuge He shan’t escape me thus!’ 


‘ Go it, George ! good pluck, by Jupiter !> 

‘ I’ll pursue him till I annihilate him — the 
miserable poltroon !’ 

‘ Better still ! “ Keep your courage to the 
sticking point !” But, really, George, your 
note to him is not just the thing! and I see 
no good grounds for proclaiming him a pol- 
troon until you fix the matter of the chal- 
lenge aright. Then if he refuse to fight 
you can properly do so.’ 

‘Ned, I cannot agree with you. I’m re- 
solved not to allow him another opportuni- 
ty to insult me. I’ll forthwith bruit it about 
the city that he’s a pusillanimous scoundrel 
and a puppy !’ 

‘ It will never do, George, depend upon 
it. Better listen to my advice and again 
challenge him.’ 

‘ Never ! He’s a coward ! his answer 
proves it, and the world shall know it.’ 

‘ Then there’s to be no duel after all?’ 
enquired Dawson, sorrowfully. 

‘ What can be the use of urging a coward 
to fight ?’ 

‘ Well, well, act your pleasure ; but, really 
1 feel sadly disappointed.’ 

‘ Oh, I’ll have ample revenge ; be assured 
of that. I’ll humble the pride of this mili- 
tary upstart. If posting him a coward be 
not efficacious, I’ll raw-hide him in public. 
There are various ways in which I can ac- 
complish my ends.’ 

‘ I wish you success with all my heart. 
It’s getting late and I must be going.’ 

‘Never mind; let’s make a night of it,’ 
said Sumpter, again filling up the glasses. 

‘I must decline, George. I’ll take one 
glass, and then, good night. By the way, 
what’s the amount of that mem. check I 
gave you last week ?’ 

‘ Ten dollars !’ 

4 Is that all ? make it twenty and fork over 
an X. I’ve got a trifle to make out in the 
morning. You shall have it again the first 
remittance I receive from the old gent.’ 

‘ Certainly, Ned, I am ever happy to do 
you a favor. I’ve nothing but a fifty dollar 
note by me ; have you the change ?’ 

‘ Oh, never mind, my dear fellow ; make 
the mem. sixty, and the next time we meet 
I’ll give you a check on my banker for the 
amount.’ 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


27 


4 Just as well Ned,’ said Sumpter, as he 
handed over the fifty dollar note, and re- 
ceived Dawson’s memorandum check in 
exchange. 

Good night, George, keep cool in regard 
to the duel. Send for me if any thing im- 
portant transpires.’ 

4 I’ll do so ; good night, Ned.’ 

.Mr. Ned Dawson left the lodgings of his 
friend, and with a more important bearing 
than he had assumed for a long time, pur- 
sued his way homeward, greatly elated with 
his unexpeeted success in besieging the 
pockets of his friend. 


Sumpter retired to his bed in a morequi" 
et frame of mind than he had experienced 
for the past twenty four hours. He soon 
fell into a slumber undisturbed by any vis- 
ion of ‘ hair-triggers.’ 

On the next day Dawson visited ‘ Oak 
Hall,’ and carried into effect his scheme. 
He came forth fully clad in new habiliments, 
leaving nothing behind save a bundle of 
threadbare garments, and his autograph, 
the latter of which may be purchased by 
any connoisseur in such matters for a very 
trifling sum. 







CHAPTER III. 




Eugene receives a Lieutenant's Commission. Interesting Interview . The Seal- 
ed Package. The valuable Casket. Love triumphant. 

‘ I would have thee gone, 

And yet no further than a wanton’s bird : 

Who lets it hop a little from her hand, 

Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves ; 

And with a silk thread plucks it beck again, 

»3o loving-jealous of his liberty.’ Juliet. 





our weeks had now 
elapsed since Cadet 
Merrill received and 
returned the insult- 
ing challenge men- 
tioned in the previous 
chapter. Meanwhile 
w he had been to West 
Point, graduated, and received a second 
lieutenant’s commission in the fourth regi- 
ment of artillery, with instructions to re- 
port himself in. sixty days to his command- 
ing officer at Harper’s Ferry, where the 
regiment was awaiting orders to march and 
join the army in Florida. Merrill returned 
to Boston, determining to spend the time 
allotted him in visiting his friends; but 
there was a particular object which attract- 
ed him hither again, which he dared not 
acknowledge even to himself. 

His furlough had now nearly expired, 
during which time he had not seen 
Sumpter, his vindictive rival ; neither had 
he seen the beautiful object which had oc- 
cupied almost exclusively his sleeping and 
waking dreams; he ventured near the man- 


sion of Mr. Stan wood many times, but he 
had not courage to enter ; he felt that by so 
doing, he might be deemed an intruder, for 
from the many rumors which had come to 
his ears, he considered Effie the affianced 
of George Sumpter ; but there was a feel- 
ing in his heart which prompted him not to 
leave the city without tirst seeking an inter- 
view with her, and if nothing more could 
be accomplished, he might lift a warning 
voice against the unprincipled and danger- 
ous man who was striving by every artifice 
he could invent to undermine his charac- 
ter, and thereby alienate the affections of 
Effie from him, and thus render the suc- 
cess of his own desires the easier to be ac- 
complished. 

With these views, upon the evening pri- 
or to his departure, and with a heart agita- 
ted by conflicting emotions, he repaired to 
the residence of Mr. Stanwood. Fortu- 
nately, and contrary to his expectations, he 
found Effie alone ; and the joy which glis- 
tened in her tearful eye, and the slight blush 
which mantled on her lovely cheek, told 
him that he was indeed welcome. 


THE DUEL 




■ 

* 




















. 






' 






















THE WEST POINT CADET. 


‘ Eugene!’ said she, surprised and pleas- 
ed, as she came forward and extended her 
delicate hand. ‘ I am very happy that you 
have come.’ 

‘ I thank you, Effie !’ was Eugene’s only 
reply ; but he felt as if he could have fallen 
upon his knees at the moment and worship- 
ped her. 

‘ Be seated !’ said she, as she led him to 
a luxurious couch. 

‘ I ought to be angry with you,’ resumed 
Effie, when they were seated, ‘ for not cal- 
ling here before. I have heard that you 
have been in town several weeks.’ 

‘ It is true, Effie, if you’ll allow me still 
to call you by your Christian name.’ 

* It would sound stiff and formal to be 
called by any other, particularly by you, Eu- 
gene. 1 certainly should find it difficult to 
say ‘ Mister Merrill ’ every time I addressed 
you. But why have you not been to our 
house before ; you formerly came here quite 
often ; you must have nearly forgotten us.’ 

‘Nay, Effie ; be assured that it has not 
been in consequence of a want of inclina- 
tion.’ 

‘I am glad of that; pray, then, what 
makes you such a stranger ?’ 

‘ Listen, and I will tell you frankly, Effie,’ 
said Merrill with an air of seriousness. ‘I 
learn that Mr. Sumpter solicits your hand 
in marriage ; and that your father has sanc- 
tioned his wishes. Supposing that your so- 
ciety would be chiefly monopolized by him, 
I did not wish to be considered intrusive in 
making you frequent visits.’ 

‘Nay, nay, Eugene, this is too severe.’ 

‘ But is it not true, or have 1 been misin- 
formed ?’ 

‘ That he has been here frequently I can- 
not deny ; but that he has received from me 
the slightest encouragement to continue his 
visits, I also deny.’ 

‘ Then, excuse me Effie, if I have sus- 
pected wrongly ; but your father ’ 

‘ Yes, yes — I know — I confess — he would 
marry me to one whom I can never love,’ 
said the lovely maiden, the tears starting 
from her eyes. 

‘ Would to Heaven that he were worthy 
your love !’ exclaimed Merrill. 

‘ Were he the most perfect of beings, I 


31 

could not love him ; but •* hesitated 

Effie, still sobbing. 

‘Yes, yes, I understand, but I trust that 
your parent’s eyes may yet be opened,’ re- 
marked Merrill. ‘To-morrow morning I 
must bid adieu to my native city ; whether 
a final one or not Heaven only can foretell ; 
but ere I did so I deemed it but an act of 
justice on my part to acquaint you with an 
incident that occured some six weeks since, 
in order that, if you felt disposed, you might 
communicate it to your father, that he might 
know one of the dark and prominent traits 
in the character of George Sumpter, ere he 
allowed you to become his bride.’ 

‘ His bride ?’ ejaculated Effie, indignant- 
ly- 

* I must speak plainly, Effie, for by the 
sweet tie of affection which once bound our 
mothers together, and by the hours we have 
happily passed together in childhood, I 
claim a friend’s if not a brother’s right to 
point out the defects of him who would be 
thy husband; for not only has he gained 
your father’s consent, but he openly boasts 
that in one year Effie Stanwood will be 
his wife.’ 

‘Never!’ exclaimed Effie. ‘My father 
would not ’ 

‘He could not, did he know this Sumpter 
as I know him, interrupted Merrill. ‘ He is 
the associate of gamblers, and dissolute and 
dissipated men. And to give you evi- 
dence of one damning trait in his charac- 
ter, read this ;’ said he, producing a copy of 
the challenge which Sumpter had sent him, 
and placing it in Effie’s hands. ‘ You will 
perceive that he regards the practice of du- 
elling as honorable, and the only proper 
mode of redressing a grievance.’ 

‘ Surely, my father cannot know of this,’ 
replied Effie, after perusing the challenge. 

‘ He is a prominent member of the Peace 
Society, and abominates this criminal prac- 
tice. With your permission, Eugene, I will 
keep this and show it to him.’ 

‘ Certainly, Effie.’ 

‘But,’ resumed she, her countenance 
for an instant betraying alarm, ‘you did 
not meet him ?’ 

‘ No ! I preferred the stigma which might, 
in base minds, be temporarily attached to 


32 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


me, rather than to countenance a practice 
which my conscience must ever condemn. 
I have been taught to consider a duellist as 
a murderer; aye, one who premeditates 
murder, who even exposes that life which 
his Maker has given him for the avowed 
purpose of shooting down his brother man ! 
On the contrary, Sumpter has been taught 
to believe that duelling is honorable, and 
that the only proper mode to adjust a diffi- 
culty, is either to shoot his antagonist or be 
shot himself! Although my profession is 
that of arms, may God forbid that I should 
ever have provocation to stand before an 
enemy, single handed, and in hostile ar- 
ray.’ 

‘Thanks! thanks! Eugene!’ cried the 
beautiful girl in joyous tones. ‘Your senti- 
ments are truly noble. Ever cherish shch 
views, and although the few may affect to 
contemn, yet the wise and truly good will 
ever applaud thee.’ 

These words touched a chord in the heart 
of the young officer, and his countenance 
betrayed that renewed hope had been awak- 
ed within him. 

‘ Dearest Effie,’ said he, taking her small 
hand within his own ; ‘ thy counsel alone 
would have decided me, had I not before 
cherished those views which you term no- 
ble. And now, Effie, ere I leave you, 1 
have but one request to make. I know that 
it will be deemed strange, and one that I 
ought not to ask at the present crisis. But 
ere you decide give it full consideration. — 
To-morrow I leave my native city and all 
that I love in this world. I am ordered to 
join the regiment, to which I am attached, 
on an expedition to Florida. Those who 
have not become acclimated to the impure 
atmosphere of that section of country haz- 
ard their lives in going thither; besides, 
there are battles to be fought with the san- 
guinary savages, and, doubtless, many of 
our army will find a grave in that soil ere 
the war is at an end. I may be one of that 
number, and, perchance, this may be the 
last time I shall ever see thee !’ 

‘Nay, nay, Eugene ; talk not thus; you 
must not go ; you are not compelled to go 
where so many perils will surround you !’ 


‘You could not wish me to be such a 
poltroon as to throw up my commission be- 
cause a post of danger is assigned me. No, 
no, Effie, were 1 certain that my life were 
to be sacrificed, I should not falter in the 
discharge of my duties. By this time to- 
morrow I shall be far away. Before I leave 
I have one duty to perform ; that done, I 
can leave contentedly. With your assent 
only can this duty be done satisfactorily to 
myself.’ 

‘ Name your wishes, Eugene ; 1 can re- 
fuse you nothing within my power to 
grant.’ 

‘ You are aware, Effie, that I have no par- 
ents, no sister, no brother ; neither have I 
a friend in whom I can bestow an impor- 
tant trust save you.’ 

‘No brother?’ ejaculated Effie. ‘You 
had a brother in the Navy ?’ 

‘Alas! he too is dead !’ 

‘ You surprise me; this must be a recent 
event ?’ 

‘ Yes ; he died at Havana of the yellow 
fever but a few weeks since.’ And now, 
Effie, hear my request,’ continued Eugene, 
producing a sealed package. ‘ This pack- 
age is of great value to me, and to your 
keeping I wish to entrust it until my return. 
Should you, peradventure, hear of my 
death, break the seal, and peruse the docu- 
ments which you will therein find.’ 

‘ I cannot, I dare not receive a trust which 
you confess is valuable; and yet I would 
gladly do any thing in my power to serve 
you.’ 

‘Thanks, generous girl; then you will 
not refuse me this.’ 

‘You surely have many friends, Eugene, 
to whom this trust might be more properly 
consigned.’ 

‘ In truth, I know of no one.’ 

‘ But ’ and Effie hesitated. 

‘ But What ?’ he eagerly enquired. 

‘ I have one serious objection.’ v 

‘ Pray, what can that be ?’ 

‘ Should you never return ? Oh, Eugene ! 
consider,’ and tears again fell upon her fair 
cheek.’ 

‘In that event lies all the necessity of 
making such a disposition of it.’ 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


‘ But you require rue to open it, in case 
I hear of Nay, nay, Eugene, I can- 

not. Take it to some one who will safely 
keep it for you.’ 

‘ I would not urge it, Effie, did you ad- 
vance one cogent reason f r refusing. Fur- 
thermore, I have no time now to dispose of 
it otherwise.’ 

‘Then, I will take the package replied 
she ; ‘ and I pray to Heaven that I may nev- 
er have cause to unseal it.’ 

‘ God will bless thee for thy kindness,’ 
and he pressed her hand to his lips, and ut- 
tered ‘ farewell !’ 

‘ Go not yet !’ cried she ; and she threw 
her arms fondly about his neck and wept.’ 

Moments fleeted by and not a word was 
spoken ; there were sighs and tears ; and 
two hearts that beat in unison rapidly and 
warmly ; two hearts that loved and fervent- 
ly loved, but that love had never been ex- 
pressed in words. Never did a more beau- 
tiful being than Efiie Stanwood recline in 
the arms of a nobler or handsomer per- 
than Eugene Merrill. 

4 Effie,’ at length spake the young officer 
in a half audible tone. 

4 Eugene !’ responded the lovely creature, 
looking with pride into his manly counte- 
nance, while her eyes beamed with the fire 
of affection.’ 

‘This is the happiest moment of my 
life,’ said he, as he returned her fond gaze, 
and kissed her crimson cheek. ‘ Can I 
really believe that 1 am beloved by thee ? 
Do I realize that which I had fondly but 
faintly hoped ? Does the affection which 
fires my heart find a response in thine ? 
Do you indeed love rr;e ?’ 

4 It is useless to dissemble. I do !’ replied 
the blushing girl promptly, but at the same 
moment hiding her lovely features upon his 
breast. 

‘Dearest Effie, I must again bid thee 
adieu.’ 

‘ Go not away, I beseech thee,’ said she, 
imploringly. ‘ For my sake, dear Eugene, 
expose not the-precious life which God has 
given thee !’ 

‘ It is indeed bitter to part at this time. 
Would that I might remain ; but my hon- 


33 

or, my reputation is at stake, and I must 
go wherever duty calls.’ 

‘ For thy honor, Eugene, I would have 
thee go ; and yet for thy safety I would have 
thee stay ; for I have a vague presentiment 
that I shall never look upon thy face 
again.’ 

* Fear not, but cheer up, Effie ; this weak- 
ness becomes us not,’ said Merrill, reso- 
lutely. ‘ The perils and dangers of this life 
are not confined alone to those who fight 
their country’s battles; all are subject to 
fatal catastrophes, when they deem them- 
selves far, far away from scenes of peril !’ 

‘ Stay a little longer,’ said she, still cling- 
ing to him. 

‘ Nay, Effie, it is late, and I would not be 
discovered here by your father. Again, 
farewell !’ 

‘ Tarry but a moment, and be seated. I, 
too, have a request to make. Wait until I 
return.’ 

Saying which she hastened from the par- 
lor, and in a few moments again appeared, 
bearing in her hands a gold chain, append- 
ed to which was a small casket, of the same 
metal, and studded with jewels. 

‘ My request, dear Eugene, is simply this, 
that you wear this about your neck, and 
never allow it to be removed by any hands 
but mine.’ 

‘ I comply with the greatest pleasure. — 
What is it?’ 

4 That you must not know,’ resumed Ef- 
fie ; nor must you allow your curiosity to 
be gratified until you are far away from the 
city. Do you promise to comply.’ 

4 1 do, indeed, my best beloved.’ 

‘Now, remember,’ said Effie, again re- 
peating the restrictions ; you are not to re- 
move it yourself, nor suffer it to be remov- 
ed, unless by my hands ; and you are not 
to allow yourself to open the casket until 
you reach the place to which you are des- 
tined.’ 

‘ 1 will faithfully do as you bid me, and 
the casket, whatever it may contain, shall 
be my chief treasure while I absent from 
thee.’ 

Effie, with her own hands, placed the 
chain about his neck, and the mysterious 
treasure rested nearest his heart. 


34 


THE WEST PCINT CADET. 


‘ God bless thee ! Farewell !’ exclaimed 
Eugene. 

The lovers embraced — moments elapsed 
and not a word was spoken. Tears, bitter 
tears flooded their cheeks. The struggle 
was a hard one — their lips met for the first 
time — he tore himself from her embrace 
and rushed in a frenzied manner from the 
apartment, while she sank faintingly upon 
the couch ! 

As Merrill passed the outer door of the 
mansion he niet Mr. Stanwood, in com- 
pany with his profligate rival, the former of 


whom coldly saluted him, while the other 
casta malignant look upon him, and with 
a smile of contempt, through his clenched 
teeth, uttered the words, ‘ villain ! coward ! 
you have dared again to cross my path ! you 
shall yet feel my just resentment !’ 

The epithets, ‘villain! coward!’ only 
reached the ears of the young olAcer, but 
they were like dagger points thrust into his 
heart. But he passed on, unheedingly, 
while Sumpter entered the mansion where 
he had that moment torn himself away 
from the very idol of his soul ! 






CHAPTER IV. 


Interview between Mr. Stanwood and Sumpter. The Compact. The South 
erntr's singular freak. 1 He would be a Soldier .’ 

* And oft his smooth and bridled tongue 
Would give the lie to his flushing cheek, 

He was a coward to the strong. 

He was a tyrant to the weak.’ 


hile our young lieu- 
tenant is pursuing 
bis way towards the 
noble and venerable 
mansion of his an- 
cestors, which he 
had inherited from 
his father, who had 
died but one year previously, we will follow 
Mr. Stanwood and his would be son-in-law 
into the same apartment, which was the 
scene of the incidents of our last chapter. 
Effie was still reclining upon the sofa, par- 
tially recovered, and her face was still 
bathed in tears. 

‘ Dear Effie,’ said her father in tones of 
kindness, ‘ you weep ; what means this 
grief?’ 

‘ Good evening, Miss Effie,’ said Sumpter, 
unceremoniously advancing. ‘ I am sorry 
to find thee thus. I suspect the cause ; the 
visit of that cowardly cadet has something 
to do with this grief.’ 

‘ But the pusillanimous scoundrel would 
not dare insult a ’ 

‘Nay, nay, dear father, speak not so 


harshly,’ interrupted Effie, aroused by these 
words. ‘The gentleman who has just left 
me is incapable of acting as you would in- 
timate.’ 

‘With all due deference to the lady’s be- 
lief,’ replied Sumpter, mildly, ‘I can bear 
testimony to the contrary. I know him to 
be a dissipated, profligate, insolent fellow ; 
and I here proclaim him unworthy the name 
of gentleman, and therefore unworthy of 
her confidence and esteem.’ 

‘ I have no doubt of it,’ added Mr. Stan- 
wood. ‘ This is not the first time I have 
heard it declared.’ 

‘’Tis base slander!’ replied Effie, her 
deep blue eye, lighting up with the fire of 
an indignant spirit. ‘ Father, you are de- 
ceived ! Read this letter,’ she continued; 
handing him Sumpter’s missive to Mer- 
rill ; ‘ it will confirm one point in the char- 
acter of him who slanders the innocent.’ 

‘Really, Miss Stanwood, you are too se- 
vere;’ remarked Sumpter, unconcernedly. 

‘ Time will cure this error.’ 

‘ Can I believe my own senses ?’ ejacula- 
ted Mr. Stanwood, still perusing the letter. 



36 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


‘A challenge to mortal combat! and sign- 
ed George Sumpter? How’s this? it pur- 
ports to be a challenge from you to Eugene 
Merrill.’ 

‘Indeed?’ exclaimed Sumpter, receiving 
the letter from Mr. Stanwood, and hastily 
glancing over it. ‘ Ha ! ha ! this is a new 
invention of my enemy ! I marvel much 
what is to come next. Mr. Stanwood, look 
again at this singular document ; you who 
know my hand-writing well, should have 
discovered at a glance that it is none of 
mine !’ 

* True, true, now I look, it bears not the 
slightest resemblance to your writing ; why 
it must be a forgery ?’ 

‘ It is indeed a forgery ! a damnable 
scheme to undermine my reputation in your 
estimation and in that of this young lady!’ 
declared Sumpter, with an air of assumed 
anger. 

‘Yes, yes! 1 see it all!’ said Mr. Stan- 
wood. 

‘ Father, you are again deceived !’ said 
Effie. ‘Mr. Merrill said it was but a copy 
of the original !’ 

‘ A copy ? marvellous, truly !’ said Sump- 
ter, sneeringly. ‘ What miserable, petty ar- 
tifices do weak-minded men call to their 
aid to conceal one monstrous crime! A 
copy, forsooth ! Why, where then is the 
original? Surely, a fool could not believe 
that one would use a counterfeit check or 
other document while in his possession he 
retained the original ! The idea is prepos- 
terous in the extreme !’ 

‘Mr. Sumpter,’ replied Effie, with an air 
of offended dignity. ‘It becomes not you 
to inquire for the original, when you know 
that you have it in your own possession, 
Mr. Merrill having informed me that he re- 
turned it soon after receiving it.’ 

‘He’s a liar and a villain!’ exclaimed 
Sumpter, furiously enraged, ‘ and were he 
here, I’d proclaim him as such to his face.’ 

Effie could hear no more, and bidding 
her father ‘ good night,’ she left the parlor 
and sought the solitude of her own cham- 
ber, when the varied scenes of the evening 
were recalled to her mind. Pleasure and 
pain, joy and sorrow, were commingled to- 
gether, agitating her mind so intensely, 


that sleep did not close her eyelids until 
long after the midnight hour had passed. 

‘ It is as I have long suspected,’ remarked 
Mr. Stanwood to Sumpter, after his daugh- 
ter had quitted the apartment. ‘ Effie loves 
the young officer.’ 

‘So it appears,’ answered Sumpter. ‘If 
I am to be superseded in her affections by 
any one, I trust it may be by a person who is 
deserving her hand. United to such a man 
as this upstart cadet, her life would be mis- 
erable indeed.’ 

‘ Are you fully convinced of the truth of 
all the reports concerning Merrill’s charac- 
ter ?’ 

‘ I have proof conclusive.’ 

‘ Heretofore he ranked high in the esti- 
mation of all who knew him; aad at West 
Point he stood high on the list of gradu- 
ates, at the close of the last term.’ 

‘All this may be very true yet, were it 
not his intention to leave the city to-morrow 
you might have the additional evidence of 
your own senses.’ 

‘Yes, yes, it must be true! If he ven- 
tures here again 1 must give him notice 
that his visits are not agreeable. And I as- 
sure you that my daughter shall not again 
see him. She is sensitive and easily effect- 
ed, but by to-morrow she will appear as 
blithe as a bird and as beautiful as a blush- 
ing rose.’ 

‘I fear this fellow has made a too deep 
impression upon her tender and suscepti- 
ble heart.’ 

‘ Pooh ! pooh ! nonsense ! it will be all 
over by to-morrow 1 tell you.’ 

‘ Think so ?’ 

‘ I am sure of it. I understand the girl’s 
disposition too well to be mistaken. When 
you have lived in the world as long as I 
have you will understand the women bet- 
ter. In my day I have had a great deal to 
do with the fair creatures although I never 

was that is to say : when Effie’s fa 

confound my stupidity what am I talking 
about ? When Effie’s mother was of her 
age she was precisely like her.’ 

‘ How long is it since her mother died ?’ 
asked Sumpter. 

‘ Fifteen years. Effie was not then quite 
two years of age.’ 


THE BATTLE. 



Heroic conduct of Lieut. Merrill in the desperate Engagement bctiveen the Americans 
and Seminoles near the Ouithlacoochee. 




THE WEST POINT CADET. 39 


‘ She is then scarcely seventeen, now ?’ 

‘No. She was left by her— that is, she 
was left in charge of a nurse, who died 
when Effie was five years of age. Since 
that period she has been brought up direct- 
ly under my own eyes. I have used every 
means to give her a superior education ; 
and I know of no young lady of her age 
who is mistress of so many accomplish- 
ments.’ 

‘ I have often remarked,’ replied Sump- 
ter 4 that Effie Stanwood would shine among 
the most gifted ladies of our land.’ 

‘Yes, ye's, I doubt it not; my conscience 
s easy on that point — but — but ’ stam- 
mered Mr. Stanwood,’ 4 we will now con- 
clude the business which has brought us 
together.’ 

‘ With all my heart,’ replied Sumpter, ta- 
king from his pocket an unsealed packet. 
‘ You still adhere to all the particulars as 
herein stated ?’ 

‘ Most religiously !’ 

‘ Let us then understand each other be- 
fore we sign and seal our compact. In the 
first place, by virtue of this document, you 
are to give me the hand ot your beautiful 
daughter in marriage?’ 

4 1 so understand it.’ 

4 On the day of our nuptials you are to 
pay into my hands the sum of five thousand 
dollars as my bride’s dowry.’ 

4 That is the sum.’ 

4 In consideration of which I am to bind 
myself by a solemn oath never to reveal a 
certain secret concerning the parentage of 
Effie, which I have learned in the office 
of Mr. Singleton, and to take no advantage 
of that secret until after your decease ?’ 

4 Yes. You promise thus to bind your- 
self?’ 

4 Most solemnly.’ 

4 There is another consideration which 
must be scrupulously adhered to,’ said Mr. 
Stanwood. 

4 Yes, yes, I have overlooked it. Imme- 
diately after our marriage we are to remove 
to the south, where we must reside until 
after your death. Is this important, Mr. 
Stanwood ?’ 


4 Our compact cannot be concluded with- 
out this consideration.’ 

‘Very well, 1 comply with all these con- 
ditions.’ 

4 And so do I.’ 

4 When shall the wedding take place ?’ 

4 1 care not how soon. And yet I would 
give my daughter ample time to prepare 
for the event, as well as for the purpose of 
effacing from her mind every thought of 
Merrill, that her attention may be diverted 
towards you.’ 

4 1 leave the appointment of the time en- 
tirely to you.’ 

4 1 would suggest one year.’ 

4 Then one year let it be. Meanwhile I 
will visit the south and acquaint my par- 
ents with my intention ; and if time admits 
I propose to visit Florida for the sole pur- 
pose of chastising that presumptuous vil- 
lain who has dared so often to cross my 
path. On your part I suppose you will ex- 
ert your best endeavors to cause your 
daughter to despise the epauletted coward, 
and I will furnish abundant material for ef- 
fecting this change.’ 

‘Are you not aware, Mr. Sumpter, that 
these epauletted gentlemen, as you term 
them, have great attraction in the eyes of 
the ladies.’ 

4 True, but do you suppose that such is 
the case with Effie ?’ 

4 1 doubt it not ; a laced coat, bright gilt 
buttons, upon a figure with the dignity and 
gracefulness of a well educated and well 
disciplined officer, are quite enough to turn 
the head of any young lady. Mr. Sumpter 
you should have chosen arms for your pro- 
fession. You have the true bearing of a 
military gentleman.’ 

4 You flatter me ; but really I have often 
wished that I was a soldier. I might have 
had my choice, for my father’s station in 
the War Department gives him no small in- 
fluence with the ‘powers that be’ at the 
Capitol Even now I might get a commis- 
sion by asking for it ; that is, what is term- 
ed a citizen appointment; but then I should 





THE WEST POINT CADET. 


40 

be attached to the Infantry, the lowest rank 
of corps in the army. But what of that ? 
an officer’s rank and privileges are the same 
whether attached to the Infantry, Artillery, 
or Dragoon corps ! By Jove, I’ll have 
one !’ 

‘ Have what ?’ 

‘A commission to he sure ! I’ll write to 
the old gent to-morrow. I’ll see if I can‘t 
sport gilt lace and bright buttons as well as 
one who has plodded along for four years 
at the Academy.’ 

‘ You cannot be serious?’ * 

‘Never was so in my life. It may delay 
my marriage a short period. And if I get 
tired of the army, w T hy, I can throw up my 


commission and again take up Coke and 
Blackstone.’ 

‘ I applaud your resolution. One laurel 
at least will be added to your brow in Effie’s 
estimation.’ 

‘ Then my mind is made up. You shall 
hear from me as soon as I receive my com- 
mission. So, good night, Mr. Stan wood 
My compliments to Effie.’ 

In great haste, as though every moment 
was essential to carry into effect his strange 
and sudden resolution, he rushed from the 
house, and ere he went to his own lodg- 
ings, he called upon his friend Dawson and 
surprised him with the intelligence of this 
singular freak. 













CHAPTER IV. 

An Inclement Night. The Attorney braves the Tempest. The Extortioner and his Vic- 
tim. A Dreadful Mystery Unravelled. The Will. The Deeds. Departure of the 
Attorney. Another Nocturnal Visitoi\ Despair. Remorse. The Orphan GirVs Dis- 
covery. 

‘ Thou art a villain damned.’ 


pestuous night, some 
four or five weeks sub- 
sequent to the inter- 
view of Mr. Stan wood 
and Sumpter, when the 
Storm-King in his vi- 
olence and wrath was 
abroad, venting his fu- 
ry upon the steeples, cupolas, and huge piles 
of brick and granite of our beloved city — 
the rain pouring in torrents— -the lightnings 
vividly flashing, and the thunders crashing 
and rumbling as if the firmament was be- 
ing rent in twain — a night so awful that 
none were abroad, not even the watchful 
guardians of the city, who deserted their 
posts and crept under the porticos or arch- 
es of dwellings to shelter themselves from 
the raging of the tempest— a night that re- 
quired nerves of steel and hearts of iron to 
brave the furious elements — that an old 
man, or one who had passed the meridian 
ot life, sat at an open window of a small 
apartment in a house contiguous to the Old 
South Church. He looked forth as if defy- 
ing the terrors of the storm ; and as the 


lightning hurled forth its dreadful bolt, illu- 
minating the wild scene, a fiendish smile 
would steal across his inauspicious visage, 
and words of dire import would occasion- 
ally fall from his lips. Presently the heavy 
tones of the church clock, striking the mid- 
night hour, commingled its shrill sounds 
with the deeper tones of the elements. 

‘ The hour has come ! and I must forth !’ 
exclaimed he. ‘ Roll on ye thunders ! ye 
lightnings flash ! pour ye torrents, and ye 
wild winds blow on ! Drive all timid fools 
within doors, that I may revel alone in your 
sublime glory ! This is my harvest time ! 
1 work while men are hushed in sleep ! I 
like not the glare and heat of day ! My 
work must be done in hours like these ! I 
must be forth ! On this night there is much 
to be done ! The golden fool ere now 
awaits my coming.’ 

Thus concluding his grandiloquent solil- 
oquy, the Attorney, for such was his profes- 
sion, opened a small iron chest, which stood 
in one corner of the narrow room, and took 
therefrom a package of papers, which he 
carefully secreted beneath his vest. Then 
placing upon his greyish head a leathern 




42 


THE WEST PCINT CADET. 


cap with a cape, not unlike those worn by 
firemen, and buttoning a storm coat closely 
about him, he noiselessly unlocked the 
door, and relocking it upon the outside he 
put the key into his pocket, and cautiously 
descended a long flight of spiral stairs and 
issued into the street. Stealthily he glided 
along beneath the eaves of buildings to 
screen himself as much as possible from 
the drenching rain. At length he halted at 
the gate of a noble mansion, which he op- 
ened and ascended the steps reaching to 
the front entrance. Instead of ringing the 
bell he gave a gentle but distinct rap upon 
the door, which was promptly answered by 
a gentleman about forty years of age, of an 
aristocratic and proud bearing. 

The moment the door wasopened a flash 
of vivid lightning illumined the scene, and 
its dreadful bolt shivered the top branches 
of a huge elm, which stood directly before 
the house ! All was again darkness ! It 
was an appalling shock, and even he who 
had seemed to defy the elements was terri- 
fied ! 

4 Come in, Mr. Singleton, quickly ; this is 
a terrible night for one to venture abroad. 
I scarcely believed that you would come, 
although I never knew you to fail in keep- 
ing an appointment.’ 

4 lou flatter me, Mr. Stanwood,’ said the 
Attorney, fawningly. 4 Surely it is a proper 
night for our business.’ 

4 That was a dreadful thunderbolt as you 
entered. Did it not startle you ?’ 

4 No, I love to brave the wildest storm; 
the danger is not increased by having a 
stout heart.’ 

‘True; walk this way.’ And Mr. Stan- 
wood conducted the Attorney to the Libra- 
ry room. 

After a few preliminaries, of a courteous 
nature, the business which brought them 
together on this inauspicious night was ful- 
ly discussed. 

4 Here are the deeds,’ remarked the At- 
torney, 4 and this is the original will duly at- 
tested; and you will observe that the whole 
of Henry Stan wood’s property is bequeath- 
to ’ 


Stanwood, with impatience ; 4 1 know alj 
about it.’ 

4 Effie Stanwood, his daughter,’ continued 
the Attorney. 

4 My daughter, sir !’ 

• Ah, yes, excuse me, for by the name of 
Henry you are known ; yes, your daughter !’ 
emphatically assented the Attorney. 4 You 
are certainly her guardian ! and / am her 
father’s executor P 

4 Speak lower, Mr. Singleton ; we may be 
overheard.’ 

‘Very properly suggested,’ said the At 
torney in a whisper, as he drew his chair 
nearer that of Mr. Stanwood. 4 Has no one 
penetrated your secret ?’ 

4 It is unknown save to yourself.’ 

The Attorney’s countenance wore a sus- 
picious look for he had more than once 
dogged his pupil’s steps to the house of Mr. 
Stanwood. Assuming a satisfied air, he at 
length said, 

4 It is well, then. And you still adhere 
firmly to our mutual obligations, ever to let 
the girl remain in ignorance as to her real 
paternity ?’ 

4 Does not my fortune, my reputation, ay, 
even my freedom from a dungeon depend 
upon it ?’ 

4 True, very true.’ 

4 And the large fees you demand for your 
part in the villainy ?’ 

4 Small, very small, Mr. Stanwood, com- 
pared with the immense value of your 
deceased brother’s estate.’ 

4 1 think you told me that when he died, 
no living witnesses were present, besides 
yourself and nurse ?’ 

4 Not a soul else even knew of his death.’ 

4 And the nurse you pledged me was — ’ 

4 Poisoned! Yes, that’s true. On that 
point you should rest satisfied, for it’s, now 
ten long years since that deed was done, 
and not even her apparition has yet ap- 
peared.’ 

4 True ; then all we have to do is to keep 
our own counsel and we are safe. There 
is a check for the five thousand dollars, the 
sum stipulated for your services,’ said Mr. 
Stanwood as he placed the check in his 
hand. ‘You are now I believe fully paid 
for all services rendered.' 


4 Yes, yes, Mr. Singleton,’ interrupted Mr. 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


43 


Yes, but the will and the deeds ’ 

‘ What of them ?’ interrupted Stanwood. 

‘They are valuable P significantly replied 
Singleton. 

‘ Well ?’ 

‘ I am the Executor P 

‘ Surely, you can have no further claim 
upon them ?’ 

‘ And why not ? I am still the Executor!’ 

‘ Mr. Singleton,’ said Stanwood, sternly, 

‘ was it not the understanding that every 
document relative to my brother’s property 
should be placed in my possession ?’ 

‘ It might have been the understanding 
but not the stipulation !’ 

‘ Of what possible value can they be to 
you ?’ 

‘ Am I not the Executor ? Is the estate 
yet settled ?’ 

‘ But, sir, you would not forfeit ’ 

‘ The least said between us of that, the 
better,’ interrupted Singleton. ‘ I have toil- 
ed hard for you, have kept your secrets, 
and for all this I confess 1 have been liber- 
ally *phid. But these papers, they cover the 
whole estate — they are certainly worth 
something P 

‘ Vile extortioner !’ exclaimed Stanwood, 
rising in anger. ‘ I demand the papers in- 
stantly ! ’ 

‘ Do not use harsh epithets,’ coolly replied 
the Attorney. ‘ They do not well become 
theeP 

‘ Surrender the papers ! or by Heaven 
you leave not this room alive !’ 

‘ Do not work thyself into a passion.’ 

‘ Villain !’ exclaimed Mr. Stanwood, ap- 
proaching with clenched fist. The papers 
‘ or your ’ 

‘Stand back!’ commanded Singleton, 
producing a pocket pistol and levelling it 
at Stanwood’s breast. 

The latter recoiled at the sight of the 
dangerous little weapon and quickly re- 
treating he resumed his seat upon the op- 
posite side of the table. 

‘Now, Mr. Stanwood, be calm, and treat 
with me fairly.’ 

‘ Give me the papers and name the sum 
of your damnable extortion!’ answered 
Stanwood. 

‘Now you talk rationally.’ 


‘ Name the amount !’ 

‘ Ten thousand dollars !’ 

‘ Ten thousand devils !’ exclaimed Stan- 
wood, thunderstruck at the large sum which 
the villain had presumed to name. 

‘ It is not such a very large sum, consid- 
ering the immense value of the estates 
which these papers represent. Not more 
than three per cent. The fee of Executor 
would amount to half the sum.’ 

* D — n your Executorship ! Say nothing 
more to me of Executorship, and handover 
the papers, and you shall have your mon- 
ey.’ 

‘ It gives me the greatest pleasure so to 
do,’ remarked the Attorney. 

Stanwood wrote a check for the amount, 
and angrily pushed it towards the Attorney, 
as the latter politely handed him the pa- 
pers. 

‘Now villain begone, and trouble me no 
more !’ commanded Stanwood. 

‘ Would it not be advisable first for you 
to examine the documents and ascertain if 
all are correct ?’ 

The papers were overhauled- and after 
running his eye over each one of them, Mr. 
Stanwood pronounced them correct. 

‘ Then our business for this evening is 
concluded,’ remarked the Attorney as he 
placed his storm-hat upon his head and 
prepared to depart. 

‘ Yes — and forever !’ added Stanwood. 

‘For all past services I am amply com- 
pensated,’ drily replied Singleton ; ‘ but fo 
the Future we mortals do not presume to 
answer for.’ 

‘How? What of the future?’ asked 
Stanwood, suspiciously. 

‘ Our accounts are balanced to this date. 
I am still burdened with a secret which I 
would not willingly reveal !’ 

‘ But you are bound by an oath ?’ 

‘Yes; an extra-judicial one. But, sup- 
posing at any future time I should be sum- 
moned before a jury to testify to what I 
know regarding this matter, my reputation, 
my conscience, would not permit me to 
swear falsely ?’ 

‘Your conscience! your reputation ! and 
pray what do you consider their value ?’ 

‘ To guard against emergencies like the 


44 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


one I have just cited, three thousand dollars 
per annum would be ample.’ 

‘ You cannot be serious ? — this is a jest.’ 

‘ I mean, seriously, that to keep your se- 
cret inviolable is well worth what I have 
named; and with this annuity you can pro- 
cure silence, forever on my part, under oil 
circumstances.’ 

‘ Devil! impostor!’ exclaimed the aston- 
ished and enraged Stanwood. ‘Sooner 
than comply with more of your damnable 
extortions I would myself reveal all.’ 

‘ What give up this princely estate ? r 

‘ It will buy me peace of conscience if 
nothing more.’ 

‘ But it will not save thee from the hang- 
man ?’ ejaculated Singleton, eyeing his vic- 
tim maliciously. 

The countenance of Singleton turned 
pale at these portentous words, and his 
whole frame quivered. 

‘ Monster!’ exclaimed he, ‘ it was you who 
did it!’ 

‘And who was the instigator? who pen- 
ned the fatal letter which I hold secure in 
my possession? who furnished the poison? 
who paid over five thousand dollars when 
the deed was done ?’ 

‘Wretch! begone! You cannot sacrifice 
me without sacrificing yourself !’ 

‘ In that you are deceived !’ replied the 
Attorney. ‘The evidence against you is 
prima facie ; and I can cause you to be con- 
victed without even endangering my own 
liberty !’ 

‘ Ah ! then monster will I be freed from 
thee by another crime, if killing such a 
thing as thou art can be called criminal !’ 
And the enraged man, with a tiger’s fierce- 
ness, again sprang towards his tormenting 
antagonist. But the coolness and self-pos- 
session of the Attorney again thwarted his 
murderous intention — the pistol was again 
levelled at his head !’ 

‘Ha, ha!’ cried Singleton, ‘you had for- 
gotten this useful little instrument ? You 
perceive that it is useless to cope with me !’ 

‘ What mortal can cope with a fiend from 
hell ?’ ejaculated the frustrated man, as he 
again resumed his seat. 

‘ A fiend !’ reiterated the Attorney. ‘ I 
like the term as well as any other, if it will 


but aid me in my purposes. Do you now 
accede to my terms ?’ asked he calmty. 

‘ What assurance can I have that you 
have no farther extortion to make ?’ enquir- 
ed Stanwood. 

‘ My word !’ 

‘ Thy word ? I were better off without 
it. I will not take it ?’ 

‘ My solemn oath ?’ 

‘ It has been perjured too oft already.’ 

‘ It is all the assurance that I can give.’ 

‘ No, I will not take it.’ 

‘Then, Mr. Stanwood, our conference is 
at an end. So I’ll bid you a good night ; 
but, remember the great secret — * 

‘ Stay !’ 

‘ Then you do accede ?’ 

‘ Yes, devil ! and let me hereafter see thy 
accursed face as little as possible ; for I 
may again be tempted to commit crime 
upon thy worthless carcase.’ 

‘ I wish you a good night, and a happy 
sleep,’ said Singleton as he left the room. 

‘ And I wish thee all the torments of the 
damned !’ returned Stanwood. 

# # # # # # 

The Attorney was again in his narrow 
and solitary apartment, and after throwing 
off his storm-hat and coat, he took the 
checks which he had wrenched from his 
wretched victim, and examining them, he 
paced the room with the consequential bear- 
ing of a millionaire ! 

‘ I have done well, excellently well,’ so- 
liloquised he ; ‘ far better than I expected ; 
fifteen thousand in one night ; besides three 
thousand a year ; and that is not all ; I have 
still the true will in my possession ; he has 
a copy, marvellously well executed ! The old 
nurse, too, is yet alive, though the rich fool 
believes her dead ! True, I did administer 
the poisonous drug — enough to get my gol- 
den fee, but little enough to save me from 
committing murder, and to save me from 
the noose of the hangman !’ 

He now opened his iron chest, and for a 
few moments gloated over the treasures it 
contained. Adding his night’s earnings to 
his mine of wealth, he locked the chest, 
and after carefully securing the door and 
window, he threw himself upon his couch, 
and, strange to say, slept as soundly as the 


45 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


innocent and conscientious. Had that crea- 
ture, in the shape of God’s image, a soul ? 

Let us return again to the mansion of 
Mr. Stan wood, the princely gentlemen, as 
lie was frequently termed. How different 
were his feelings from those of the unprin- 
cipled wretch who had just left him. He 
paced to and fro his splendid and luxurious 
apartment in an agony of misery — he suf- 
fered all the torments of the damned — re- 
morse and despair, pride and avarice, anx- 
iety and fear, were the contending emotions 
which harrowed up his guilty soul. 

‘ Vile wretch !’ exclaimed he, ‘ hell itself 
is too mild a place for such a fiend ! 1 could 
have torn him limb from limb, and tram- 
pled his miserable carcase under my feet ! 
Would to God I had never beheld the mer- 
ciless villain ! It was he who led me on ! 
It was he who suggested the accursed plot 
of robbing my own brother’s child, by as- 
suming his Christian name in a foreign land, 
after his death, and removing his property 
and daughter to this city, deceiving not on- 
ly the world, but herself, that she is of my 
own flesh and blood ! It was he who led 
me to sanction and instigate the murder of 
an innocent woman to conceal a lesser 
crime ! one whom I had first bribed to sell 
her own soul, and then sent to her final ac- 
count with her crime unatoned, to meet the 
retributive vengeance of Heaven ! Impi- 
ous deed ! Oh God ! what a guilty wretch 
am I ! I have committed crimes for which 
I can never atone ! J3y blood my hands 
are stained, else I might repent and make 
reparation to the guileless maiden whom 
1 have foully deceived and wronged, but 
whose life I had enough of virtue left in 
me to spare! though my viler confederate 
would have added her murder to our hell- 
ish scheme ! But, I have gone too far 
to turn back ! Thus it is ever with crime— 
to atone now and reveal all would not only 
make myself an object of public scorn and 
execration, but a malefactor, loaded with 
chains, imprisoned in a noisome dungeon, 
and at last dragged to the gallows to expiate 
my dreadful sins! Oh, horrible thought! 
Wretched and wicked I still must live and 
act on !’ 

His incoherent soliloquy was now inter- 


ruppted by the noiseless entrance of Effie, 
who halted within the door; and as Mr. 
Stanwood beheld the figure, clad as she 
was in a simple robe of white, he shudder- 
ed, and falling back upon a couch, he ex- 
claimed in affright, 

‘ Begone ! begone ! out of my sight, thou 
tenant of the tomb !’ 

‘ Dear father,’ said the gentle maiden, ad- 
vancing, ‘ what is it that thus disturbs thee !’ 

‘ Is it you, Effie ? I thought it was the 
apparition of your deceased mother?’ said 
he, wiping drops of perspiration from his 
brow. 

‘ Father, it is such a dreadful night, I 
could not sleep. The howlings of the storm 
without, and [ have heard such strange noi- 
ses within, I was afraid, and dared not close 
my eyes. What is the matter, father ?’ 

‘Nothing — nothing, my child — that is, I 
feel a slight illness.’ 

‘You are quite ill; you look pale and 
your hands tremble ; drops of perspiration 
are starting from your brow, and your eyes 
seem burning in their sockets. Let me call 
the servants, I fear you are very ill.’ 

‘No, no, my child — go to your bed — I am 
much better now — 1 shall soon retire.’ 

‘ I dare not leave you ; the physician had 
better be called in.’ 

‘No, no, Effie ; it’s but a sudden nervous 
attack ; it will soon be over. Go now and 
leave me.’ 

Effie obeyed and again retired to her 
room. 

‘ Gracious Heavens !’ exclaimed Stan- 
wood, after she had gone, ‘ how much she 
resembled her dead mother !’ 

The wretched man, before retiring, 
brought forth a bottle of brandy, and with 
all the pleasure of the inebriate, he sought 
to drown his sorrows. He drank deeply, 
and, neglecting to deposite his papers in 
his safe, he staggered to his sleeping apart- 
ment. 

The tempestuous night was succeeded 
by a bright and beautiful morning. The 
sun shone in unclouded beauty, and as its 
earliest beams peered through the windows 
of Effie’s room, she arose and hastened to 
the library, thinking, perhaps, that her fa- 
ther might yet be there ; but the room was 


46 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


deserted, and as she entered, the first object 
that met her attention was the package of 
papers, which Mr. Stanwood had received 
from Singleton, and which he had neglect- 
ed to conceal. Approaching the table she 
took up the package, and from the strange- 
ness of the words, written legibly upon the 
envelope, her curiosity was excited and she 
ventured to open it. She there discovered 
the ‘ Last Will and Testament’ of Henry 
Stanwood, bequeathing all his property to 
his only child, Effie Stanwood ; and, also, 
the matter of investing John Stanwood, 
his brother, with the guardianship of Efiie, 
and the appointment of Isaac Singleton, the 
Executor of the estate. Another paper, 
which amazed her most, was a detailed ac- 
count of the death of Henry Stanwood ! 

Who can portray the conflicting emotions 
which pervaded the soul of the timid mai- 
den when the astounding intelligence was 
fully revealed to her? She was too young 
when bereft of her only parent, to remem- 
ber the dark scenes which transpin d, yet 
she had a faint reminiscence of once being 
more caressed and loved than she had been 
in years past. She tried to penetrate the 
dark shadow which surrounded her early 
childhood days, but in vain. Time had ef- 
faced every distinct impression from her 
memory, and left all in gloomy doubt. — 
There she stood trembling and amazed ! 
The scroll of parchment rattled in her 
hands ! that record of her own paternity ! 
in characters too visible to be misinter- 
preted ! 

‘ Oh, Heaven !’ cried she, ‘ what a secret 
is here unfolded to me ! Can I give cre- 
dence to my own senses, or am I dreaming? 
Henry Stanwood, my dear father, dead ? 
and he who calls me his child not my father, 
but my uncle ! What means this dreadful 
mystery? Am I indeed without a parent? 
How and for what purpose can I have been 
so deceived ? It is true he never seemed 
like a father to me; l never dared to kiss him, 
and I have never thrown my arms about his 
neck and told him that I loved him, as I 
have seen others do to their parents. But 
this I can now account for, for he is only 
my uncle ! But what could have been the 
cause of his wild and agitated manner when 
I came here last night ? And why is it that 


he has assumed my father’s name ? Surel 
there is something dark and mysterious in 
all this ! Something which I cannot, must 
not, dare not investigate. Oh, Heavens ! 
so deceived? The ivill /’ continued Effie, 
running her eye again over the document; 
‘ yes, the will bequeaths all the estates, 
herein mentioned, to me, and my uncle is 
my guardian? No mother! no father! an 
orphan ! Yes, he will be a father to me 
still. ‘ Ah ! I see how it is !’ she exclaimed, 
her face brightening ; ‘ he wishes to surprise 
me, when I become of age, by placing in 
my possession a princely fortune. He has 
surely acted as a father towards me ; he 
has supplied me with every thing my heart 
could wish ; has given me an accomplished 
education; has always treated me kindly, 
and , no ! he never caresses and kis- 

ses me as other fathers do their children. 
Ah ! some one comes ! Should it be he ! 
my fa my uncle — I am lost !’ 

She threw down the parchment which 
she held in her hand, and like a startled 
dove fled from the library by one door just 
as Mr. Stanwood entered the other. Thus 
she escaped detection. 

The wretched man, pale and haggard 
from excitement and the loss of sleep, 
walked slowly into the room, and discov- 
ered to his surprise the important docu- 
ments lying confusedly upon the table. He 
started back ! 

‘Ah! what do I see?’ he ejaculated. 
‘The will — the deeds — scattered and ex- 
posed in this manner? Impossible! I 
could not have been so careless ! And yet, 
I do not recollect of concealing them before 
I went to bed! It must be so — the fumes 
of the intoxicating liquor, together with my 
agitated mind, caused this strange incau- 
tiousness. Effie cannot have been here, 
for this is earlier than is her custom to ap- 
pear in the morning ; and the • servants — 
they are too ignorant to be able to read and 
understand these matters. It must be my 
own careless act.’ 

Saying which he gathered up the papers, 
and carefully sealing the envelope, he de- 
posited the package in his double-doored 
safe. This done, he threw himself upon a 
couch, and endeavored to compose his dis- 
turbed mind to sleep. 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


Effie, with that curiosity which prompts 
not only her sex but that of our own, when 
that which we seek to know directly con- 
cerns us, returned softly to an adjoining 
room, through which she passed in her 
hasty flight, and the door leading into the 
library being slightly ajar, she was enabled 
to see his surprise on discovering the con- 
fusion of the papers. Trembling she stood 
and heard his words ! She saw the guilty 
apprehension which gleamed in his wild 
and distorted eyes ! She saw the papers 
sealed by his hand and placed in the iron- 
safe ! She watched with eager attention 
each secret spring as it was touched, each 
bolt as it was pushed into its socket ; and 
when the doors were locked, she saw the 


47 

hiding place of the key, as it was deposited 
therein ! 

Having thus gained the most important 
information she could have required, she 
again sought her room, and there each cir- 
cumstance, each startling development, of 
the few past hours, revolved in her mind 
over and over again in wonderful array. 

She threw herself in a prayerful attitude 
and invoked the blessing of God! She 
prayed to Him for guidance and protection 
in this her first trial, and beseeched Him to 
cause her uncle to walk in the path of rec- 
titude and duty ! 

We must now, for a time, go abroad, and 
watch the movements of other important 
'personages of our ‘ ower true tale.’ 





CHAPTER IV. 


The Florida Campaign. March to Tampa Bay. Skirmishing with the Seminoles. Ar- 
rival of George Sumpter with a Lieutenant's Commission. Heroic Conduct of Lieut. 
Merrill. The Duel. Timely Interference of our Hero. Sumpter's Defeat and Dis- 
grace. Court Martial. The Result. 

‘ They had left their homes, their friends so true, 

With blessings and tears from each one they knew, 

With manly hearts through the wilds'to go, 

And rid the land of a savage foe.’ 



|tunm. During this pe- 
_lriod the situations of 
-B!!!l l fllil§l|g; several who compose 
our dramatis personae , had become essen- 
tially different from the positions in which 
we last left them. The young lieutenant, 
Eugene Merrill, had joined the regiment to 
which he was to report himself, and enter- 
ed with alacrity upon the duties of his sta- 
tion. Five months had elapsed since the 
arrival of the troops in Florida ; and this 
period of time had been employed in tra- 
versing the forests and dense swamps, and 
in fording the rivers of this unhealthful cli- 
mate, in pursuit of the Seminole Indians, 
under the guidance of the indefatigable and 
.valorous Osceola. They had encountered, 
in their long and weary march, their savage 
foe almost daily, but nothing like a general 
battle had yet ensued, although some se- 


vere skirmishing had taken place, by which 
many of our bravest troops had fallen. — 
How many sayages were killed in these 
conflicts, never could be ascertained ; for 
it was a shrewd policy, on the part of the 
Seminoles, never to allow the pale faces 
to know the numbers of their dead ; and 
in case of defeat or retreat, they would in- 
variably bear the dead or wounded away, 
or conceal them in the dense hammocks or 
deep sluices, places with which the coun- 
try abounds, and which proved in most ca- 
ses impenetrable to our troops. We have 
been informed by a gallant officer, who 
served throughout nearly all the campaigns, 
that he never saw a dead Indian while in 
Florida, although he had witnessed scores 
of them fall while in battle ; and he cited 
the reason that we have named above. 

The hardships and sufferings of the Amer* 
ican army, as is well known to many of our 
readers, were intense in the extreme ; be- 
ing obliged to undergo a forced inarch by 
day, and at night to bivouac in places, ex- 
posed to nocturnal attacks from the savages. 
It is well known that when they reached 


\ 




THE WEST POINT CADET. 4 9 


Tampa Bay, they were in a sickly, destitute 
and truly deplorable condition. At this 
post they went into garrison, where they 
remained several months. 

George Sumpter, strange to relate, had 
in one important matter kept his word. He, 
to®, now sported a pair of silver epaulettes, 
a laced coat, and a sword by his side. He 
had received, through the official influence 
of his sire, a ‘ citizen appointment’ of Sec- 
ond Lieutenant, by brevet, in the -th Regi- 
ment, U. S. Infantry, and was sent to Tam- 
pa Bay, in charge of a company of raw re- 
cruits, in a vessel which sailed from Balti- 
more. The regiment to which he was 
, attached belonged to the same division of 
the army as that of Lieut. Merrill, and on 
the arrival of the raw recruits, which hap- 
pened soon after the army had reached the 
post, they were garrisoned in the same bar- 
racks with the main body. 

A week or two had elapsed after the arri- 
val of the recruits, before Sumpter and 
Merrill had met, although each knew of the 
other’s presence, but not a word or a look 
of recognition passed between them. The 
latter, however, was greatly surprised when 
he heard of Sumpter’s having* received a 
commission, and he could not divest his 
mind of the impression, that he was either 
directly or indirectly connected with his 
singular proceedings. 

Tne new lieutenant was the only officer 
at the post, who had not graduated at the 
Military Academy. This alone, as is ever 
the case, created at first feelings of contempt? 
but when it was known that he was weal- 
thy, had powerful friends, and joined the 
army out of pure love for adventure, all 
hostile feeling was suppressed, and his so- 
ciety was even courted by many of his 
brother officers. The prominent traits of 
his character, however, soon began to be 
pretty clearly understood. He had com- 
menced his military career by assuming a 
braggadocia and blustering air, and although 
he was totally ignorant of military tactics or 
discipline, yet he boasted loudly that he 
could handle a small sword more skillfully, 
and aim a pistol with greater precision than 
any man of the garrison. He had much to 
say to his brother officers of Lieutenant 


Merrill of the 4th Artillery; threw out 
many insidious hints regarding his charac- 
ter; and threatening to chastise him, when- 
ever a good opportunity should offer, in re- 
taliation of an alleged insult he had receiv- 
ed from him while sojourning at the North. 
He moreover asserted that he had chal- 
lenged him to mortal combat, and Merrill 
having declined, he had the satisfaction of 
reporting him a poltroon in his own native 
city; and in proof of which he would sum- 
mon his negro, Jeff, who made it a point 
always to coincide with his master, to bear 
testimony to Merrill’s disgrace. 

In this manner did Sumpter really gain 
an ascendancy over many of those who 
were greatly his superiors ; and they were 
made fully to believe that he was a second 
Cardinal de Retz in affairs of honor. They 
therefore sought not to incur his displeas- 
ure, although there was not a man of his 
rank, who knew him, but held him in utter 
detestation. 

Sumpter, nevertheless, succeeded in im- 
pressing upon the minds of his fellow offi- 
cers a partial contempt for Lieutenant Mer- 
rill, though as a disciplinarian all acknowl- 
edged his superiority, and they wondered 
that so able an officer should lack courage. 
Besides, when these stories, which were rife 
in the barracks, came to Merrill’s ears, he 
took no pains whatever to refute them, but 
studiously avoided all conversation upon 
the subject. He performed his duties as a ♦ 
soldier and a gentleman, thinking this the 
most effectual mode of maintaining his 
reputation. 

Two or three months after their arrival at 
Tampa, one or two incidents occured 
which changed the current of sentiment, 
touching the prowess of Sumpter and the 
cowardice of Merrill. 

Towards sunset, of a pleasant autumnal 
day, a group of officers were standing upon 
a bank overlooking the beautiful bay, en- 
joying the refreshing and perpetual breezes 
peculiar to this place, and conversing upon 
each topic that came uppermost. At the 
same time a small sloop-rigged boat, con- 
taining three individuals, was observed by 
them coming up the bay under a full press 
of canvas and with great velocity. As she 


50 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


neared the quay, she rounded to suddenly, 
when, at the instant, a flaw of wind struck 
the sails, and she immediately capsized ! 

This accident was viewed from the bank 
by the young officers idly stationed there, 
but being on the opposite side of the bay, 
they saw the impossibility of gaining the 
opposite bank in season to render assist- 
ance to those in immediate peril. But such 
was not the case with a single individual, 
who chanced at the time to be walking on 
the beach, within thirty rods of the perilous 
scene. It was but the work of a moment 
that he divested himself of his coat, cap 
and boots, and intrepidly plunging into the 
turbulent waters, he swam rapidly towards 
the capsized bark The three unfortunate 
persons had succeeded in gaining the keel 
of the boat to which they clung for dear 
life. 

‘Can any of you swim?’ enquired the 
intrepid young man, as he reached the suf- 
ferers. 

‘ A little !’ replied one of them, ‘ but I 
am fearful that my strength will not enable 
me to save my own life. My companions 
cannot swim at all.’ 

‘ Pull for the shore, then,’ said he, who 
had come to the rescue, ‘ and 1 will be near 
you in case that you do not succeed.’ 

The gallant fellow took by his side one 
of the boat’s company and safely landed 
him on shore. He immediately returned 
and succeeded in saving the other, while 
the third breasted the waves manfully and 
finally gained the beach. 

All these proceedings were plainly ob- 
served by the group of officers from tho 
other side, and as they saw that all were 
saved they gave three hearty cheers ror the 
noble preserver! 

‘A courageous and gallant fellow, who- 
ever he may be!’ remarked Lieutenant 
Sumpter to his comrades as the echo of 
their cheers died away. 

‘Yes; and if my vision does not deceive 
me, he is the identical person whom you 
have branded as a coward!’ replied one of 
the number. # 

‘It is Lieut. Merrill of the 4th Artillery!’ 
cried another. 

‘ Impossible ! it cannot be !’ replied Sump- 


ter. ‘ A man who has the courage and soul 
to peril his life in that manner would never 
decline an honorable challenge !’ 

‘It is him, nevertheless,! said the first 
speaker, ‘ and I’m more than half inclined 
to the belief that Lieut. Merrill deserves 
not the contemptible impression which is 
generally held of him throughout the post. 
His conduct, ever since he joined his regi- 
ment at Harper’s Ferry, belies the rumors 
which have been circulated calling in ques- 
tion his courage and character!’ 

‘ Are you serious, Lieut. Lee, in what you 
say ?’ asked Sumpter, sharply. 

‘ That is my firm belief!’ answered Lee, 
emphatically. 

‘ Which is equal to saying that I have 
been guilty of many falsehoods ?’ 

‘ If you please so to construe it !’ coolly 
replied Lee. 

‘ I shall hold you to account for this!’ 

‘ I am ever at your service.’ 

‘ Come, come, no quarelling !’ interposed 
Surgeon Swasey ; ‘ it’s against the positive 
regulations of the garrison !’ 

‘ The fellow has insulted me !’ exclaimed 
Sumpter. 

‘ The villain has belied the character of a 
faithful and gallant officer !’ said Lee, ‘ and 
I here stand ready to prove my words.’ 

‘ Insolent fellow, draw ! I’ll prove that 
your courage is even less than his !’ said 
Sumpter in a blustering rage. 

‘ Hold, gentlemen !’ commanded the sur- 
geon ; ‘ if you are determined to fight, do 
not butcher each other like savages ; but 
let’s have the affair come off decently, and 
in accordance with the honorable code reg- 
ulating duels.’ 

‘You are right, Doctor,’ said Lee ; ‘ lap- 
point you my second.’ 

‘ Lieut. Wilkins, will you do me the hon- 
or to act as my second ?’ asked Sumpter. 

‘Yes, yes,’ replied Wilkins, ‘if you are 
disposed to have fair play I can’t object. 
Come, doctor, let’s prepare the ground, and 
draw lots for positions. You have the 
choice of weapons. Do not say blunder- 
blusses nor meat-axes, but decent, Chris- 
tian-like weapons. Let’s have every thing 
done up genteelly.’ 


5L 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


4 Small swords !’ answered the surgeon, 
after consulting his principal. 

The ground was prepared — the positions 
marked out, and the weapons placed in the 
hands of the combatants. They took their 
ground, and for the first time it was obser- 
ved that Sumpter trembled — his bloodless 
lips quivered — and his cheeks were pallid 
with fear. 

Not so with his antagonist; not a muscle 
seemed to move, and he stood firm as a 
rock for the encounter. 

The signal was given to commence the 
cpmbat, and their swords crossed ! A few 
passes were made by Lee, which were ea- 
sily parried by Sumpter. This slightly re- 
newed the courage of the latter, and he no 
longer stood on the defensive, but com- 
menced thrusting vigorously, but each pass 
was turned aside by the skillful parries of 
Lee. 

The parties for a few moments now dis- 
engaged to regain strength for a renewal of 
the encounter. 

Their swords again met — Sumpter fought 
earnestly and with energy — Lee played 
coolly and harmlessly, as if he were enga- 
ged with a novice. This exasperated Sump- 
ter more and more ; and as his anger in- 
creased his courage also increased in pro- 
portion. In his desperation, and by a se- 
vere blow, the blade of his antagonist was 
broken close to the hilt ; and Sumpter, per- 
ceiving his foe defenceless, was about to run 
him through, when in a twinkling his own 
sword flew from his hand ! Like a chafed 
tiger he run and regained his sword, and 
was ready to pounce upon him who had 
dared to interfere at the instant he was to 
complete his triumph over his unarmed 
opponent. What was his wrath, upon turn- 
ing round, at beholding the figure of his 
hated rival with a naked sword in his hand ! 
Merrill had observed the commencement 
of the affray, and hurrying towards the 
spot, he arrived in time to prevent the vil- 
lain from butchering one of his fellow offi- 
cers ! 

‘ Ah ! scoundrel ! coward !’ exclaimed 
Sumpter in a rage; ‘was it you who 
thwarted me ? How dare you again to cross 
my path?’ 


‘Mr. Sumpter,’ replied Merrill calmly, 

‘ put up your sword. ‘ With you I seek no 
quarrel!’ 

‘Consummate villain! you first insult 
me, and then your dastardly spirit gives me 
no opportunity to chastise you !’ 

‘I have only prevented you from the 
commission of a crime which your soul 
must ever after have shuddered it ! Put up 
your sword ! Seek not to murder !’ 

‘ M urder ?’ reiterated Sumpter ; ‘ it is thus 
you would escape me ! A fit subterfuge 
for a miserable poltroon! You cannot es- 
cape me now ! This is the moment 1 have 
long sought for, and even prayed for!’ 

Thus speaking, with sword in hand, he 
rushed furiously upon Merrill, who parried 
his desperate thrusts and held him at bay, 
without attempting to assume the offensive. 
He soon became tired of thus defending 
himself, and making a dexterous parry, he 
caused the sword of Sumpter to fly from his 
hand to the distance of some yards; and as 
he attempted to regain his weapon, the sur- 
geon interfered, picked it up, and refused to 
let him have it. This enraged the defeated 
man beyond measure ; he threatened, raged, 
and stormed, but it was of no avail. All 
were now determined that he should not 
again fight. 

Thus was this southern braggart most 
signally defeated by one whom he had en- 
deavored to disgrace by reporting the most 
foul stories touching his integrity, his honor 
and his valor. This event stung him to the 
quick. Casting a hellish look upon Merrill, 
and exclaiming through his clenched teeth, 
‘ Villain, we shall meet again ! My hour of 
vengeance has not yet come !’ he turned 
upon his heel and with rapid strides pur- 
sued his way towards the barracks, mutter- 
ing by the way curses and oaths of ven- 
geance upon his rival. 

At Lee’s earnest solicitation it was agreed 
that the matter of the duel should be hushed 
up as serious consequences might ensue, 
should it reach the ears of their superior 
officers ; knowing full well that the defeat- 
ed and chop-fallen Sumpter would not be 
likely to proclaim his own disgrace. 

Notwithstanding their precaution the af- 
fair got wind, and the whole garrison was 


52 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


in a high state of excitement ; the partici- 
pators were arrested, and the matter under- 
went an investigation before a military tri- 
bunal, the result of which was, all con- 
cerned received a severe reprimand from 
the commanding officer of the division. 

This conclusion of the affair was pre- 
cisely what Sumpter hoped for; and he 
forthwith indited a letter, which he addres- 
sed to a certain notorious New York editor 
with whom lie was acquainted, and gave 
such a version of the affair as would suit 
his own purpose, introducing the name of 
Merrill, whose conduct he condemned, as 
frequently as possible. Consequently, not 
many weeks elapsed ere the whole nation 
was knowing to the particulars of the duel 
according to Sumpter’s version, who took 
precaution not to allow his signature to be 
appended to the letter. 


The heroic and noble actions of Lieuten- 
ant Merrill placed him upon a right footing 
with his fellow officers. He gained many 
warm friends, and all highly esteemed him. 
Not so with his ignoble and contemptible 
adversary. In proportion as Merrill arose 
in esteem, he sunk into disrepute, and be- 
fore many days passed away he had become 
the jest and by-word of nearly all who 
knew him. 

This state of affairs was well known and 
keenly felt by Sumpter; and he looked up- 
on Merrill as the sole author of this change 
of sentiment. In pursuit of revenge was 
his whole time occupied, and his mind was 
completely absorbed in concocting projects 
by which he might disgrace, and cause him 
to know and suffer the bitterness of his 
revengeful wrath. 








j 




CHAPTER V. 


Singular Meeting of Sumpter and Dawson. The latter recounts his Wonderful 
Adventures. The Conspiracy . 

“ Now by two-headed Janus 
Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time.” 


ust as the echoes of the 
evening gun from the 
fortress had died away 
upon the breeze, a few 
days subsequent to the 
disgraceful defeat of 
Sumpter, that worthy 
past the outer post of 
the garrison, and con- 
tinued his way alone 
along the beach which skirts the beautiful 
bay of Tampa, the better to meditate upon 
the one great topic which was uppermost 
in his mind, and to devise some plan by 
which he might severely punish him whom 
he so sincerely hated. He had not walked 
more than half of a mile when he discov- 
ered, reclining by the side of a rock, a sol- 
dier in the undress garb of an artilleryman. 
He was smoking a curiously constructed 
pipe, of rude material and workmanship, 
and watching with pleasure the circling 
flight of innumerable sea-birds which hov- 
ered over the waters. He seemed truly 
happy in his loneliness; his countenance 
beamed with intelligence and complacency, 

4 


and his body rested in the most comforta- 
ble position possible. 

As Sumpter approached him he leisurely 
turned his head and gave a momentary look, 
but without offering any sign of recognition 
or even saluting the officer, as was his duty, 
he resumed his lazy attitude and continued 
smoking. 

‘Sirrah ?’ ejaculated Sumpter, sharply. 

‘ Eh ?’ grunted the soldier, still keeping 
his eye seaward. 

‘ Sirrah ! do you hear ?’ 

‘Eh?’ 

‘ Are you deaf? or do you not know your 
duty to an officer?’ 

‘ I suppose it is customary for soldiers to 
be civil and obeisant to their superiors, but 
is it not their duty, in all cases, to set the 
example !’ 

‘ Insolent fellow ! know you to whom 
you speak ?’ 

‘1 must confess myself slightly in doubt, 
replied the soldier, sarcastically ; ‘ your 
VQice has not quite the effeminacy of a wo- 
man ; neither has it the tone which denotes 
manliness. But since you have put the 



54 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


question I will give you a candid reply. I 
judge you to be an overgrown boy who has 
just escaped from the leading-strings of his 
dear mama !’ 

‘ Your insolence is insufferable !’ 

‘ Do not get into a passion, my little fel- 
low ; keep cool.’ 

‘ Take that for your temerity in insulting 
an officer !’ returned the angry Sumpter, 
striking the soldier upon the back with his 
sword-sheath. 

In a moment the soldier was upon his 
feet, and with a ferocious aspect he was 
about to spring upon the man who had dar- 
ed to strike him, when he started back in 
amazement, and eyeing him for a moment, 
his rage was suddenly quelled, and he burst 
into a hearty laugh ! 

‘ Sumpter ! by Jupiter !’ exclaimed he, as 
he recognized him. 

‘ Dawson ! by all the gods !’ responded 
Sumpter, and they seized each other by the 
hands, highly delighted with their unex- 
pected meeting. 

‘ By what great convulsion of nature 
came you landed here, Dawson. I could’nt 
have been more surprised if I had encoun- 
tered his Satanic Majesty, himself!’ 

‘ Eh ! much obliged to you for the simi- 
le,’ answered Ned. 

‘ But, seriously, how in the d — 1 came you 
here ?’ 

‘ Destiny — destiny.’ 

‘ Fiddlestick ! Come, come, no more 
foolery. What brought you hither ?’ 

‘The power of attraction? Like the 
centre of a system of worlds, should it pass 
out of its orbit, the lesser bodies would of 
course follow.’ 

‘ And pray what has that to do with your 
being here ?’ 

‘ In plainer terms, then, the Sun of my 
existence, around which I revolved, being 
erratically disposed, suddenly left the north- 
ern hemisphere, and took its place among 
the brighter constellations of the southern.’ 

‘I do not yet comprehend ; you speak in 
riddles, Ned.’ 

‘ Then thou art a dull, stupid ass, as my 
intimate friend, Bill Shakspeare, would say. 
Now mark the meaning in terms that can- 
not fail to penetrate thy thick skull. Thou 


art the Sun, and your humble servant, Ed- 
ward Dawson, Esq. high private of the ar- 
my of the Republic, is the Satellite.’ 

‘ Ha, ha ! now I fully understand. Your 
friendship for me has brought you hither ?’ 

‘ Exactly so !’ 

‘ I appreciate the compliment.’ 

‘ Glad of it. I wish it could penetrate 
his purse,’ said Dawson to himself. 

‘ You are so disguised I did not at first 
recognise you,’ remarked Sumpter. 

‘ I thought not. Confound it how my 
back smarts !’ 

‘ Forgive me that blow, Ned. I would as 
quickly have struck my own father as you. 
On my word I did not know you.’ 

‘ I know it, George, I know it. There’s 
my hand — I forgive you, though I would 
have challenged any other man in Christen- 
dom for a far less provocation.’ 

‘ Thank you ; your magnanimity is only 
equalled by your friendship.’ 

‘ And your many good qualities only ex- 
ceeded by your generosity,’ added Dawson, 
significantly. 

‘Come, come, a truce to compliments. 
But how came you in this toggery ? the 
garb of a common foot soldier ?’ 

‘ Being unable to serve myself, I conclu- 
ded to serve my country and enlist as a 
common savage hunter. My courage will 
undoubtedly ensure my promotion, and in 
less than one year 1 anticipate having the 
command of a detachment of the Spanish 
blood-hounds, recently imported from Cu- 
ba.’ 

‘You seem in excellent spirits.’ 

‘ Spirits ? My soul’s in arms ! as Richard 
says— my spirit’s eager for the fight ! Speak- 
ing of spirit, George, I usually carry the 
largest quantity m my canteen,’ continued 
Dawson, producing the aforesaid article, 
filled with brandy. ‘ Come, let’s take a 
horn, in memory of other days, as some 
song writer hath it.’ 

‘ Ha! that’s pure Otard, fourth proof,’ re- 
marked Sumpter, after drinking from his 
friend’s canteen.’ 

‘ Nectar, by J upiter !’ said Dawson, smack- 
ing his lips after a draught from the vessel. 

‘ How long is’t since you enlisted ?’ asked 
Sumpter. 


55 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


* One week ?’ t 

‘ Impossible ! We have had no arrivals 
recently.’ 

‘Oh yes, one. Myself and two others 
landed here in a most miraculous manner.’ 

‘ What do you mean ?’ 

‘Now don’t interrupt me, and I’ll render 
one of my remarkables adventures as clear 
as daylight,’ resumed Dawson. ‘ In the first 
place, George, times have sadly changed 
since I last saw the light of your agreeable 
countenance. When last we met, as anoth- 
er song-writer hath it, I was surrounded by 
every luxury that mortal man could desire, 
including a magnificent hookah, a present 
from Sultan Mahmoud, and a plentiful sup- 
ply of opium and tobacco. I was then 
a happy man ’ 

‘ Pshaw !’ interrupted Sumpter, impatient- 
ly. ‘ Be more explicit.’ 

‘As I said before,’ contiued Dawson, 
without heeding the interruption, ‘ I was a 
happy man, and I had a friend whose gen- 
erous soul never refused to loan me money. 
That friend departed — I was sure that the 
great loss presaged some mighty event in 
which I was to act a conspicuous part. — 
My prophetic soul, as Shakspeare hath it, 
did not deceive me. Oh, horror ! I shudder 
when I call to mind that eventful morning! 
The sun arose in all his gilded majesty 
while I was comfortably snoring in my 
bed, undisturbed by any noise, save the 
sweet, silvery tones of the breakfast bell ! 
when, anon, I was startled by a loud knock- 
ing at my door — I leaped from the bed — 
my heart sunk within me, for in that knock 
I felt the awful summons which preceded 
the fulfilment of my prognostications. I 
kept silent — another knock, and then — oh 
Pluto — a crash ! followed by the bursting 
in of the door ! and lo, and behold, a coup- 
le of men — I did not mistake their profes- 
sion — boldly entered the room ! I tried to 
conceal myself, %r I was en dishabille , but 
it was no use, for the basilisks eyes were 
fastened upon me. I would have jumped 
out of the window, but I did not like to ex- 
pose my person in such a scanty wardrobe. 
The villains commenced taking account of 
my furniture, including my foils, masks, 
boxing-gloves, pipe, tobacco, et cetera ; and 


they would have laid their unceremonious 
hands upon my wearing apparel, had not I 
possessed the presence of mind in the 
meanwhile to encase my walking limbs se- 
curely in my best and only pair of unmen- 
tionables. Had they succeeded in getting 
possession of them, in what a horrid plight 
I should have found myself— I blush to 
think of it !’ 

‘An awkward predicament truly. But, 
go on with your narrative.’ 

‘ After they had laid violent hands upon 
all my valuable possessions,’ resumed Daw- 
son, ‘ I demanded of them to produce their 
authority for their unheard of proceedings, 
and threatened to prosecute them with bur- 
glary and robbery. To my utter astonish- 
ment on examining their legal documents, 
I found that my landladies, laundresses, 
bootmakers, tailors — Oak-Hall and all — had 
conspired at one fell stroke to complete my 
ruin ! My professional visitors politely in- 
vited me to a change of residence, and I 
soon found myself the unwilling and sole 
occupant of a very narrow apartment of a 
stone building in Leverett street, where 1 
was unmercifully kept without any of the 
luxuries which make life endurable. At 
the end of three days 1 took the poor debt- 
or’s oath and found myself a free man — 
that is, free from prison, free from money, 
in fact, minus every comfort, excepting a 
threadbare suit, which clung to me night 
and day as closely as my own skin. In this 
truly deplorable condition I shunned my 
former associates, and shipped on board of 
a brig, bound to Pensacola, as a fore-mast 
man. Our voyage was prosperous until 
we were within a day’s sail of port, when, 
at midnight, a violent tempest blew our 
vessel upon the Florida reef, where she 
went to pieces. Myself and two others 
succeeded in getting the yawl-boat free 
from the wreck, and in the morning we 
were free from all danger, the wind having 
abated and our boat floated safely upon 
the waters. We hoisted mainsail and jib, 
and steered towards Tampa Bay, one of 
our crew, fortunately, having some knowl- 
edge of the coast. On the following day, 
towards sunset, as we were sailing up the 
Bay, with a delightful breeze, a flaw of 


56 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


wind struck us as we were rounding to and 
upset our craft, and we should certainly 
have been drowned, were it not for the in- 
trepidity of a man, who, at the risk of his 
own life, swam towards us while we were 
clinging, almost exhausted, to the keel of 
the boat, and succeeded in bearing us to 
the shore ! Next day I enlisted in the 4th 
regiment of U. S. Artillery. This is a 
faithful account of my last adventure, and 
I feel amply repaid for all my privations and 
sufferings, my dear boy, at the pleasure I 
experience in having found you.’ 

‘ This is a strange adventure, truly,’ said 
Sumpter, thoughtfully. ‘Are you not aware 
who saved your lives.’ 

‘No. I was almost senseless at the time, 
and before 1 recovered to thank him, he 
had gone.’ 

‘ It was my ’. Sumpter hesitated. 

‘ No, it wasn’t you.’ 

‘ I am well aware of it, my dear fellow, 
but 1 sincerely wish it had been. But no 
matter, I am glad that I have found you.’ 

‘ Thank you. By the way, 1 think I am 
in your books for a small amount.’ 

‘ Don’t mind that, Ned — a mere trifle — 
not worth mentioning.’ 

‘ Ah, George, you have the same generous 
soul that always characterized you ; have 
you got such a thing as ninepence about 
your clothes, as Mr. Diddler would say ? 
Pay-day don’t come every day you know.’ 

‘ Certainly,' my friend, there’s a hafl — 
Don’t hesitate to apply to me when you’re 
short of funds ?’ 

‘ Thank you, George, I shall always re- 
member; and now that we are going to 
fight the aboriginals, I’ll make my will en- 
tirely in your favor, and add my blessing 
besides.’ 

‘ You’re very kind. Did you say that you 
belonged to the 4th Artillery ?’ 

‘ Ay, the ‘ bloody fourth,’ Colonel C .’ 

‘ To what company are you attached ?’ 

‘ Company D. By the way the same 
that your old friend— the Cadet — you know 
whom I mean — is attached. He doesn’t 
know me, for he gave me a lesson in the 
manual this morning. He’s a rare bird !’ 

‘ But I’ll pluck his gay plumage for him.’ 

‘What? not another duel, George, hey ?’ 


‘ Any thing, it matters not what ; I am re- 
solved that he shall not much longer tri- 
umph over me as he has done !’ 

‘ Good pluck — I admire your spirit and 
perseverance — I would never allow myself 
to be trampled upon.’ 

‘ I’ll pursue him to the last. If I fail an 
hundred times, I will not cease till my tri- 
umph is complete.’ 

‘ Call him out, George.’ 

‘ Nay, I will not condescend thus to no- 
tice him. I’ll have my revenge in a surer 
and more effectual manner.’ 

‘ What is your plan ?’ 

‘I have many in view, but nothing that 
looks feasible. If I had your assistance we 
might hit upon a scheme that would ac- 
complish the business.’ 

‘ Nothing easier,’ replied Dawson, looking 
significantly at the five dime piece which 
he held in his hand. 

‘ You’ll aid me then ?’ 

‘ To be sure 1 will — stop, I’m a little fast 
— what is the penalty for conspiring against 
an officer ?’ 

‘ Pshaw ! I don’t intend to murder him.’ 

‘ Then it’s not a ’ said Dawson, bend- 

ing his head on one side, and significantly 
twitching upward the ends of his cravat. 

‘ Nothing of the kind, I assure you. It 
would not answer my purpose. I wish to 
disgrace him for two weighty reasons. 
When accomplished I have nothing farther 
to do with him.’ 

‘ What are these weighty reasons you 
speak of?’ asked Dawson. 

‘ I’ll tell you, in confidence.’ 

‘ Oh, certainly, you can ever rely upon 
your friend.’ 

‘In the first place, Ned, I hate him for 
several insults which I have borne from 
him ; for these I have sworn vengeance ! 
Secondly, I wish to marry the most beauti- 
ful creature that I ever beheld ! I have her 
father’s written consent ; but by some sin- 
gular infatuation she has become enamored 
with this villain, Merrill, and unless I can 
disgrace him in some way or other she will 
cling to him to the last.’ 

‘ Ah ! I now comprehend you fully. By 
Jupiter, I’ll assist you !’ 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


57 


‘ Will you ? then there’s my hand and 
here’s my purse.’ 

‘In this great emergency I decidedly 
prefer the latter,’ said Dawson laughing 
and taking the purse.’ 

‘ This is but an earnest of what I intend 
if our projects are successful.’ 

‘ Ah ! this comes opportunely — I’m your 
friend forever— -I’ll wade through fire and 
water — expose myself to thunder and light- 
ning, gunpowder and bullets, to serve you.’ 

1 I doubt it not,’ replied Sumpter. ‘Come, 


let’s walk on the beach — I have a plan par- 
tially concocted, which we will talk over in 
the meantime. 

‘ I’m sorry I have not a pipe to offer you ; 
this I made myself, and the only one I am 
the owner of. I hope you’ll excuse it.’ 

‘Certainly, I never smoke a pipe.’ 

The officer and soldier strolled arm in 
arm along the beach, conversing upon the 
matter which so much interested the for- 
mer, the result of which we shall give in a 
future chapter. 




i 



CHAPTER VT 

Battle of the Ouithlacoochee. Dangerous position of the Americans . Valiant 
conduct of Lieut. Merrill. A hair-breadth Escape. 


“ The yell of the savage arose on high, 
The rifle was raised to his eagle eye — 
The death-shot was given — again a yell 
Told alas ! too true, how the hero fell ! 


ontrart to expec- 
tation, on the morn- 
ing following Sump- 
ter’s interview with 
Dawson, a courier 
arrived from Gener- 
al Gaines, with or- 
ders for the troops, 
concentrated at the 
garrison of Tampa Bay, to march forthwith 
towards a point on the Ouithlacoochee Riv- 
er, in the immediate vicinity of which it 
was known that a large force of Indians 
were concealed. 

For a few hours all was bustle and confu- 
sion in and about the barracks of Tampa, 
and before sunset on the same day the 
troops took their departure, leaving but a 
small detachment behind to guard the fort- 
ress. The march was a fatiguing one, and 
during the route several unimportant skir- 
mishes were had with the Indians. They 
indicated, however, together with the ex- 
ceeding temerity of the savages, that a large 
number were not distant. In this they were 


not disappointed, for early one morning, ere 
the reveille had alarmed the encampment, 
they were attacked by a considerable force 
of their savage foe, who had under cover of 
the night been enabled to surround the 
small plain on which they were encamped. 
But the Indians had not reckoned upon the 
unusual cautiousness of those with whom 
they were about to cope, for scarcely a mo- 
ment had elapsed before every man, armed 
and equipped, stood forth for battle. 

The Indians had, in this instance, ap- 
proached too near to retreat without great 
loss, they therefore stood their ground and 
a general battle ensued. The contest was 
a severe one, both sides having suffered 
considerably, and for a long time it was ex- 
tremely doubtful in whose favor the conflict 
would terminate. At length one of the 
companies of Infantry, which had lost three 
of its superior officers, and holding a posi- 
tion which prevented the savages from gain- 
ing possession of a dense hammock, broke 
way and made a sudden retreat. The In- 
dians, with a victorious yell, rushed into the 
desired strong-hold and commenced pour- 



THE WEST 

ing a destructive fire upon the main body, 
which caused a retreat towards the oppo- 
site side of the plain. General T , who 

had command of the troops in this engage- 
ment, stormed and raved most furiously 
when he saw one of the most important 
posts unnecessarily abandoned and the 
whole corps fly with terror. 

At this critical juncture, and as the Gen- 
eral rode along the line, he was accosted by 
a young officer of the 4th Artillery : 

‘ General T ,’ said he, saluting his 

commander, ‘ the day is lost unless the In- 
dians can be dislodged from the hammock. 
There is a slight eminence, directly on their 
right, which if gained with a piece of ar- 
tillery, would command their strong-bold 
and force them to retreat.’ 

£ Well suggested, lieutenant,’ replied the 
General ; ‘ where is your captain ?’ 

4 Wounded, sir, and taken to the rear.’ 

‘ Where is your first lieutenant ?’ 

‘ Alas, sir, he was killed in the early part 
of the action.’ 

‘ Then you now have the command ?’ 

‘ I have sir ; and with your permission I 
will make an effort to take possession of 
the vantage-ground.’ 

‘It is a dangerous position, lieutenant, 
when gained, and still more so to sustain it. 
Many must fall ere it can be accomplished ; 
and I dare not so recklessly expose the 
lives of our troops.’ 

‘It is our only salvation,’ urged the young 
and daring officer. 

* I grant it, but I deem it a rash underta- 
king. I fear your temerity may prove your 
death. It will require a brave heart and 
nerves of steel to make the hazardous at- 
tempt.’ 

‘ Fear not, general ; our victory depends 
upon its success. The enemy must be dis- 
lodged or our defeat is certain.’ 

‘ Be resolute but cautious,’ my brave fel- 
low. I will order p. detachment to cover 
your advance, still you will be exposed to 
a fearful danger.’ 

With these words the General give his 
horse rein and galloped towards the main 
body of troops, who were now exceedingly 
annnoyed by the constant fire of the uner- 
ring rifles of the Seminoles from the ham- 


POINT CADET. 59 

mock of which they had so recently gained 
possession.’ 

Lieutenant Merrill, for it was he who had 
broached this heroic enterprise to his com- 
manding officer, now prepared to advance 
with a detachment of only twenty men, 
with one piece of cannon, towards the 
point to be gained. 

‘Forward ! be firm !’ he exclaimed to his 
men in a voice that told of an undaunted 
spirit; and the little detachment pressed 
forward animated by the zeal and courage 
manifested by their leader. 

This extraordinary movement was noti- 
ced throughout the line with astonishment, 
and all considered it a reckless adventure. 
Not so with our hero who was executing 
his bold manoeuvre. He had well counted 
the cost; he knew that by sacrificing a few, 
perchance himself among the number, the 
whole army would be saved from a greater 
loss and certain inglorious defeat ; and even 
if he failed in gaining the commanding po- 
sition, he could do much towards checking 
the deadly fire of the enemy upon the main 
body. The General, in obedience to his 
promise, detached a company to press for- 
ward towards the hammock in another di- 
rection, in order, if possible, to divert the 
attention of the savages from our hero and 
his command ; but this manoeuvre was not 
successful, for they retreated after the first 
fire. Still Merrill pressed onward, and amid 
a shower of bullets, and a whoop from the 
foe, the cannon was planted upon the emi- 
nence in a position that, must rake the ham- 
mock, and soon render it untenable. Before 
the piece was brought to bear, a large num- 
ber of the foe suddenly made their appear- 
ance and poured a volley of musketry up- 
on the undaunted little band. Two men 
fell and several were slightly wounded, but 
the remainder stood firm, ready for the word 
to commence the action. The piece was 
depressed, and the match applied, and ere 
its roar was silenced, a hideous yell from 
the hammock told the deadly havock it had 
made. While the troops were reloading 
the savages again appeared, though not so 
numerous as before, and again fired, but 
the smoke not having cleared away, they 
aimed at random and without any of their 


60 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


shot taking effect. The firing now became 
genera], and at every discharge of the can- 
non the same hideous yell was heard, and 
at each re-appearance of the savages their 
numbers seemed lessened, but the little 
band of Merrill had diminished nearly one 
half, barely a sufficient number to work the 
piece. Still the remainder maintained their 
dangerous position ; they saw the dreadful 
slaughter they had made among the enemy, 
and they resolved to die like men or si- 
lence the firing from the Indian only 
strong-hold. One of the gunners having 
been disabled, Merrill seized the rammer, 
and the same part which the great Napole- 
on enacted at the siege of Toulon, Merrill 
enacted in this severe conflict ; and while 
he was in the act of ramming the charge a 
ball struck him and he fell to the ground, 
but his great point was gained — the enemy 
deserted the hammock and were now dis- 
persing through the almost impenetrable 
swamps. Merrill was lifted from the earth 
and borne to the rear — all thought him 
dead, but on examination it was found that 
he had only received a severe shock, and 
that his life was almost miraculously pre- 
served by a small golden casket, which was 
appended to a chain that hung around his 
neck, and which had resisted the ball and 
prevented it from penetrating directly thro’ 
his heart! yet its force was sufficient to 
deprive him of breath for many moments ! 
By judicious treatment he quickly recover- 
ed, and resumed his duties. 

Standing around him were the chief offi- 
cers of the army, for the battle was over, 
and the victory, through his intrepidity and 
sound judgment, was gained. For his sin- 
gular display of courage they all applauded 
him, and for his narrow escape from death 
he received their heartfelt congratulations. 
It was a desperate and hazardous move- 
ment, but the young officer’s superiors fully 
appreciated the immense advantage that 
had been gained by it, and they all conceded 
that among all the officers of the division 
there was not one who would have thought 
such a bold experiment practical, or who 
had sufficient prowess to carry it into execu- 
tion. And yet this was the man they had 
heard stigmatized as a poltroon, because he 


had once refused to engage in a duel ! But 
where was the slanderer P Where was the 
‘citizen’ lieutenant, Sumpter? He who 
had made a cowardly retreat at the com- 
mencement of the conflict ? Whenever 
his name was mentioned afterward in the 
camp the term ‘ coward’ usually accompan- 
ied it. 

The battle being over, and the rattle of 
musketry and the roar of cannon having 
ceased, Sumpter ventured towards the 
camp, and was greeted by the scorn and 
contempt of all whom he chanced to meet. 
He also received a severe reprimand from 
his general, and would have been sent to the 
guard-house, had he not been the son of a 
powerful official in the war department at 
Washington. 

With a sullen and indifferent bearing he 
bore the contumely that was heaped upon 
him, and strutted about the camp as if he 
were the hero of the fight. He affected 
the same aristocratic bearing which had al- 
ways characterized him, and declared that 
his conduct in retreating from the position 
in which he was placed defied impeach- 
ment, the opinion of the General and all 
his subordinates to the contrary notwith- 
standing. Yet he was alone in his assump- 
tion, and he found none that agreed with 
him, unless we except private Dawson, who 
did so contrary to his judgment, for he had 
long since understood the imbecile charac- 
ter of his monied friend, whom he denom- 
inated, among his comrades, his ‘ banker.’ 
On the evening alter the battle, this worthy 
hud another interview with his ‘ gilded lu- 
minary.’ 

In the despatches of General , to 

the Adjutant General at the Capitol, were 
the following paragraphs which were an- 
nexed to a detailed account of their first 
general engagement with the Indians, near 
the Ouithlacoochee : — 

Among the heroic deeds and most re- 
markable events of this severe conflict, we 
cannot forber to make mention of the val- 
iant conduct of Lieutenant Merrill, of the 
4th Artillery, to whom all consideration and 
praise is due, for conceiving and carrying 
into execution, successfully, an enterprise 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


61 


which for discernment and prowess, has 
within my experience, rarely been excelled. 
A numerous body of Indians, who had ta- 
ken possession of a hammock, impenetra- 
ble to our troops, annoyed our whole line 
exceedingly with their constant discharge 
of rifles, and our united efforts to rout them 
proved unsuccessful. At this critical junc- 
ture, Lieutenant Merrill, with a small de- 
tachment, succeeded in planting a piece of 
cannon on a slight eminence within twenty 
rods of them, and from this position he 
completely routed them. Our situation 


was extremely embarrassing previous to 
this successful act of heroism. To Merrill, 
therefore, and his little detachment, we 
mainly owe the victory which we finally 
achieved. 

“ I am sorry also to make unfavorable 
mention of Lieut. Sumpter, who, with his 
detachment abandoned an advantageous 
position and ingloriously fled from the con- 
flict.” « 

The effect of the above transcript from 
the missive of the General will be made 
known to the reader in a future chapter. 


\ 








\ 








CHAPTEIt VII. 


General Gaines arrives at the Camp. The Plot Matured. Conflict with a Sem- 
inole Squaw. Timely Arrival of Dawson. 

“ The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd ; the shepherd for food follows not the sheep ; 
thou for wages followest thy master; thy master for money followest not thee ; therefore theu 
art a sheep.” 


or several weeks af- 
ter the battle the 
troops remained in- 
active in their en- 
campment upon the 

Ouithlacoochee. 

During this interval 
one or two incidents 
transpired, touching 
our story, which are all important for the 
full development of our plot. 

In order to feel secure against any sud- 
den onslaught of their alert enemy, the 
number of sentinels were doubled each 
night, and instead of one commissioned of- 
ficer two were detailed for night duty. This 
plan was kept up vigilantly for several 
weeks. In the meantime General Gaines 
having arrived at the camp, made it a night- 
ly practice, in cog. to visit the several out- 
posts in order to discover if any of the 
sentinels were remiss in their duty. 

This practice of the General was known 
to Sumpter, and he resolved to turn it to 
account. He therefore indited the follow- 
ing note to him : 


“ Maj. Gen. Gaines, 

Dear Sir — Unwilling openly to complain 
of a brother officer, and deeming it my du- 
ty to communicate a fact which is not gen- 
erally known, I take this method of inform- 
ing you that a certain individual, whenever 
detailed for guard duty, and whom I believe 
serves to night, is invariably addicted to 
sleeping at his post. And I doubt not, that 
by visiting the officers’ guard tent to-night, 
you can have the additional evidence of 
your own senses in corroboration of what I 
have herein stated. Yours, truly, 

Vigilance. 

The General, on the reception of this 
information, was greatly surprised and re- 
solved to discover the individual who dare 
sleep when he should be watchful and vig- 
ilant at his post. 

‘ Is it possible !’ exclaimed the veteran 
commander; ‘an officer of the Guard in 
the constant habit of sleeping at his post ? 
Such conduct deserves severe punishment, 
and if found true he shall be cashiered ! 
Zounds! I’ll make an example of him ! — 



THE WEST POINT CADET. 


63 


But first I must ascertain the truth or falsi- 
ty of this note. If I find him guilty woe be 
to him !’ 

# * # # # # 

We last left Lieutenant Sumpter and his 
quondam friend, private Dawson, plotting 
against our much esteemed hero. Since 
the battle, and previous to the day Sumpter 
had written to the General, they had had 
another interview, the important portion of 
which we will endeavor to make known to 
the reader in their own language. 

‘He’s too many guns for you, Sumpter,’ 
said Dawson, blowing off a whiff of smoke 
and again replacing the everlasting pipe in 
his mouth, and I advise you, at least for the 
present, to give up the chase.’ 

‘Never will I cease in pursuing my ven- 
geance until my objects are accomplished, 
or my heart ceases to beat.’ 

‘ But he’s too much of a fevo rite just now 
— why he’s the Napoleon of the camp since 
the battle ; and your conduct, you know, 
on that occasion was not precisely in ac- 
cordance ’ 

‘Pshaw! pooh!’ interrupted Sumpter, 

‘ what care I for what they say ? I am not 
so verdant as to allow my body to become 
a mark for the savage devils to shoot at.’ 

‘ I hold to that doctrine myself, although 
I flatter myself that I was a small specimen 
of a hero myself on the day of our glorious 
victory !’ 


‘ Oh, yes — I see it all,’ replied the soldier 
with an air of indifference. 

‘I have an idea!’ resumed Sumpter at 
length. 

‘ Hold on to it or pass it to me before you 
lose it !’ 

‘Will you stand by me through thick and 
thin, Dawson ?’ 

‘ On my honor.’ 

‘ Enough ! Merrill is the first officer of 
the guard to-morrow night'!’ 

‘ True, and I’m high private of that vigi- 
lant body !’ 

‘ Better yet ; you can do wonders for 
me.’ 

‘ I am happy to hear it ; but that depends 
upon circumstances. I shall require the 
aid of funds to carry on the war success- 
fully.’ 

‘ I do not comprehend your meaning. 

‘ I’m short of ammunition ; I havn’t a 
shot in the locker, nor so much as a plug of 
tobacco in my knapsack.’ 

‘ Oh, ho ! I understand! There’s a few 
‘ mint-drops’ as a fore-runner of something 
better !’ said Sumpter, handing Dawson sev- 
eral half-eagles.’ 

‘ George, I’m forever your debtor ! com- 
mand me !’ 

‘In this paper, Ned, is an opiate — not 
enough to harm a child, but sufficient to 
make a grown person sleep comfortably 
and soundly.’ 


‘1 doubt not that you are more valiant 
than this accidental hero. The truth is, 
Dawson, it is not for want of courage that 
I object to exposing myself, but I freely 
confess that I have not the slightest ambi- 
tion for military glory ; and joined the army 
mainly for the purpose of seeking a quar- 
rel and chastising this Merrill, who dares 
not stand up coolly and face me with pistols 
in hand.’ 

‘ I have heard that the fellow shew good 
pluck when he interfered between you and 
Lee ?’ 

‘None at all ! He knew I was rather an 
ordinary swordsman ; besides he came up- 
on me when I was engaged steel to steel 
with another. That makes a difference 
you know, Dawson ; d’ye see ?’ 


‘You surely cannot mean to have me 
take an opiate ? I shall fall asleep at my 
post — the old ‘cocked-hat’ will be on his 
‘ rounds,’ and to-morrow morning I shall 
find myself in the guard-house there to 
await certain penalties ’ 

‘No, no, Ned,’ interrupted Sumpter, ‘you 
do not comprehend me. ‘ That is precisely 
the situation in which I wish to place our 
enemy.’ 

The d — 1!’ exclaimed Dawson. ‘It will 
break his commission !’ 

‘ Precisely the result I anticipate. Then 
the purpose for which I have entered the 
army will be accomplished. Merrill w 7 ill 
be in disgrace, and will probably go hang, 
shoot or drown himself! So much the bet- 
ter. I shall throw up my commission and 


64 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


return in triumph, on the wings of love, to 
the tri-mountain city.’ 

‘And what is to become of your faithtul 
friend ?’ asked Dawson, sorrowfully. 

‘I’ll procure your discharge, and you 
shall accompany me.’ 

‘Good! glorious! it will be joy ineffable 
to emigrate from this mosquitoe country. 
1 had rather fight an army of Seminoles 
than fight a myriad of mosquitoes. All 
night 1 am obliged to defend myself against 
their attacks. Squadrons of these flying ar- 
tillerists wheel themselves into line, and 
come boldly to the attack with the sounds 
of clarions, braying of horns and clashing 
of armor! They pierce me with their 
keenly sharpened lances on every side, and 
though I slay a host with each stroke of my 
mighty arm, as many more of the reserved 
corps come to the rescue ; and if I put 
hors du combat a legion, they will quickly 
rally and come more boldly than ever to the 
attack! Poor Gulliver, when assaulted by 
the entire forces of Lilliputans combined, 
was not half so closely harrassed as I am 
by the Flying Artillery of Florida, armed 
to the teeth, and clad in suits of mail ! 1 deem 
myself a greater than Napoleon, a Hanni- 
ball or an Alexander, for they counted their 
slain by hundreds of thousands, I reckon 
mine by millions !’ 

‘ Well, well, we did not come here to 
talk over your valiant deeds,’ interrupted 
Sumpter, impatiently. ‘ Our business is of 
another character altogether.’ 

‘True — speaking of the opiate, how is 
the thing to be managed ? I fear it will be 
difficult.’ 

‘Nothing more easy, I assure you. The 
officers of the guard have a collation every 
night at nine o’clock! Contrive to make 
an errand to their tent a few minutes be- 
fore that time while they are marching the 
‘ grand rounds." Their servant will not sus- 
pect you. When his back is turned slip 
the drug slily into Merrill’s coffee ! D’ye 
understand ?’ 

‘Perfectly! Capital! I’ll do it! And 
what then ?’ 

‘Why simply that the unsuspecting lieu- 
tenant will find himself deuced sleepy, and 
all effort to keep awake will prove ineffec- 


tual. Thus absolutely compelled to take a 
nocturnal siesta, my plan must succeed. — 
General Gaines will be on the alert as usu- 
al — surprise him in this highly interesting 
condition — cause him to be arrested, sent 
to the guard-house, tried before a drum- 
head court-martial, found guilty, and sen- 
tenced to be expelled from the army !’ 

‘ What then ?’ 

‘ Why, then — I trust he’ll commit suicide 
at once !’ 

‘ Is that the Jinale -of the whole affair ?’ 
asked Dawson. 

‘ An end of him at all events.’ 

‘But what will be my fate? It’s a high 
offence !’ 

‘ My dear fellow, I’ll accept your drafts 
for a year to come.’ 

‘Conscience avaunt! as Gloster says. 
Down, busy devil, down — I’ll do it ! What 
an excellent soother of the conscience mon- 
ey is to a poor man ! I’ll do anything for 
money but murder and steal ! I could nev- 
er screw my courage to the sticking point as 
Mrs. Macbeth caused her husband to do ! — 
And as for stealing— I never could steal 
even when I was penniless — it’s mean, low, 
contemptible ! And I believe I should de- 
cline now, were it not that my pockets 
were rescued from their poverty-stricken 
condition by these yellow-boys.’ 

‘ You will not relent ?’ 

‘No, by Jupiter! You have my word ! 

I always keep that sacred ! I never lie ! 
Lying is akin to stealing !’ 

‘ And my promises shall be as faithfully 
performed as yours !’ 

‘ Enough !’ 

‘ Let us now separate — we must not be 
observed confering together.’ 

‘ No ; it becomes not an officer to hold 
secret converse with a private — it looks sus- 
picious you know — besides, it compromises 
the dignity of that amiable and highly pol- 
ished class of gentlemen to which you be- 
long,’ replied Dawson, in a tone of pleasant 
irony. 

‘ Never mind, Ned — if our plans do not 
fail we shall become equals again — I’ll re- 
sign my worthless commission, and you 
shall become a true gentleman in appear- 
ance as you have ever been in soul. 


65 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


‘ Deuce take your compliments — give us 
money! money!’ repeated Dawson. 

‘Fear not; you shall be well supplied; 
meet me here at the setting of the sun to- 
morrow night.’ 

‘ As you command, so shall 1 obey.’ 

The interview being ended the officer 
and private separated, and taking different 
directions through the wood, in order to 
avoid being seen together, they soon lost 
sight of each other. 

Dawson had not proceeded more than a 
hundred rods, when he heard the loud cries 
of some one apparently in distress. Has- 
tening in the direction from whence the 
cries proceeded, he was surprised as well 
amused to witness a conflict between Sump- 
ter and an old Seminole squaw, who had 
suddenly pounced upon him from a thick 
jungle where she had betn concealed. 
The strife had evidently been a severe one, 
but the old squaw had finally gained the 
advantage, and was in the act of securing 
the officer’s hands behind him, when Daw- 
son appeared. He looked on for a few mo- 


ments, unobserved by the combatants, to 
witness the sport; and then rushing up be- 
hind the squaw, he seized her and threw 
her upon the ground. He then loosened 
the cords which bound Sumpter. The lat- 
ter, enraged to desperation, drew his sword 
and would have killed her upon the spot 
had not Dawson interfered. 

‘ You would not murder this old woman, 
Sumpter ?’ 

‘She would have burned me alive!’ 

‘Never mind, that,’ answered Dawson; 
‘ then I have saved you from a horrible 
death, and I ask this woman’s life as a re- 
compense.’ 

‘ Let her go, then.’ 

The squaw was freed and she was soon 
lost to view in the dense wood. 

* Say nothing of this adventure, Dawson, 
I beg of you,’ said Sumpter. 

‘ I’m mum,’ answered the soldier. 

The sun had sunk beneath the horizon? 
ere the subaltern or private passed the out- 
posts of the encampment. 


v 










,7 ." n r 








CHAPTER VIII. 

Success of Sumpter's hellish Scheme. Merrill under Guard* The Trial. The 
Result. 


“ Oh my reputation, 1 have lost my reputation.” 


RTGHf and full the 
moon arose, and shed 
her silvery radiance 
over the white tents 
of the troops en- 
camped near the mar- 
gin of the swiftly 
flowing and sparkling 
waters of the Ouith- 
lacoochee. The brilliant constellations of 
the southern arch gave welcome light to 
the sentinels who paced to and fro about 
the tented field. It was the night on which 
Lieutenants Lee and Merrill had charge of 
the guard of the encampment, and they 
were now finishing their midnight repast, 
when the cry of ‘ Twelve o’clock and all’s 
well !’ from one of the sentinels reminded 
them of their duty. Lee jumped up, buck- 
led on his sword, summoned the relief 
guard, and commenced his ‘grand rounds.’ 
Soon after he had left the tent, Merrill arose 
and walked back and forth in order to shake 
off a strange and heavy drowsiness which 
was imperceptibly stealing over him. At 


length he sat down, and not many moments 
elapsed ere he fell into a deep sleep ! 

Presently the slow and measured tread of 
a tall and dignified figure, with a cloak 
thrown loosely over his shoulders, accom- 
panied by two aides-de-camp were seen to 
approach the quarters of the officers of the 
night. For a moment they halted before 
the tent, as if expecting to be challenged 
for the watch-word, but no one appearing, 
and all being still as death, save the distant 
and occasional challenging of the grand 
rounds by the sentinels, one of the aids rai- 
sed the canvas of the entrance, which he 
suddenly let fall, and turning round to his 
commander, exclaimed in a whispering 
tone in his ear: 

‘ The officer of the guard is asleep !’ 

‘ Then I have not been imposed upon,’ 
replied General Gaines. ‘ This man is con- 
stantly in the habit of sleeping while on 
duty/ 

‘ Can it be possible ?’ ejaculated the other 
attendant. ‘ Why, it must be Lieutenant 
Merrill.’ 

‘Indeed!’ replied Gaines. ‘I am sorry 



THE WEST POINT CADET. 67 


for him. Let us ail be satisfied as to this 
gross violation of duty, that our testimony 
may be positive.’ 

The canvas was again raised and the 
three individuals entered the tent, where 
they gazed for some moments upon the 
sleeping officer. 

‘Mr. Tompkins,’ at length said the gen- 
eral to one of his aids ; ‘ repair to the guard 
house with a minute’s delay and bring hith- 
er a file of men.’ 

The aid touched his cap and departed. 

‘ Officer of the Guard !’ shouted the Gen- 
eral, endeavoring to awaken the sleeping 
lieutenant. 

No answer was given. 

‘ Officer of the guard !’ again shouted he 
with increased emphasis. 

Still no answer. 

‘ He sleeps soundly. Such a man would 
sleep amid the din of battle. A few such 
officers would complete the ruin of our ar- 
my,’ remarked the General, at the same time 
shaking the sleeper violently. 

The unconscious man partially awoke — 
he wildly and startlingly exclaimed : 

‘ Who goes there ?’ 

The General threw off his cloak and dis- 
played his commanding figure clad in full 
uniform. 

Merrill’s eyes glared confusedly for a 
moment at his commander — he jumped to 
his feet and in an attitude of affright and 
dismay, exclaimed : 

‘ Merciful Heaven ! — General Gaines ? — 
I am undone !’ and he sunk back upon the 
seat and hid his face in his hands. 

* Mr. Merrill, I must confess my surprise 
and amazement at this conduct in you,’ said 
the veteran General in a stern manner. — 
‘ I have heard much of your valour m th e 
field, ancf your reputation is unexcelled by 
that of any subaltern in the army. Asleep ? 
— at midnight — and in the enemies’ coun- 
try — surrounded by a sanguinary foe ? It 
is monstrous ! The senior officer of the 
night, too ? Why such conduct is unheard 
of! and however much it grieves me my 


duty must be performed — I must order 
your immediate arrest.’ 

The file of soldiers for which the aid 
was despatched had now arrived. 

‘Mr. Merrill, you are now a prisoner! — 
Guard conduct the lieutenant to the guard- 
house !’ 

Without giving utterance to a single syl- 
lable, Merrill arose and was prepared to 
follow. 

‘ Your sword, lieutenant!’ said the Gen- 
eral. 

Merrill drew the weapon from its scab- 
bard, and presenting it to his commander, 
said in tones of bitter anguish : 

‘ General, I feel myself unworthy to serve 
under you ! Take the weapon — it becomes 
me not! I deserve punishment — I expect 
it — and I pray that death may be the penal- 
ty ! Oh God ! what have I done ? Forfeit- 
ed my honor — my reputation — all is lost — 
irretrievably lost — disgraced — forever dis- 
graced !’ 

Here he paused — and at the moment his 
guard companion, Lieutenant Lee entered 
the tent, and upon seeing Merrill under ar- 
rest, he started back as if he too were to 
suffer the same fate. 

‘ Fear not, Mr. Lee,’ said General Gaines, 

* I find you attending to your duty.’ 

‘ May 1 venture to enquire the cause of 
my friend’s arrest ?’ asked Lee. 

‘ I discovered him sleeping soundly when 
I came to the tent !’ 

‘ Can it be possible ! I left him not twen- 
ty minutes since — he was then awake — he 
must have fallen asleep suddenly.’ 

‘ I witnessed sufficient to warrant any 
officer’s expulsion from the service,’ replied 
the stern disciplinarian. ‘ And 1 have been 
informed that it is his usual practice to 
sleep at his post.’ 

‘ Indeed ! this is the first that lever knew 
of it, and we have been the companions of 
many a night-watch !’ answered Lee. 

‘ Believe me, my friend,’ said Merrill, 
this is the first and only act of the kind that 
I am guilty of.’ 


68 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


‘ Once is quite sufficient,’ said Gaines. 

‘ I am well aware of it, General, and I 
trust that all due leniency and considera- 
tion be granted him. I am proud — shall 
ever be proud to rank him as a faithful 
friend, notwithstanding his unaccountable 
conduct. Before I entered the army I knew 
him not; our friendship commenced with 
this expedition. I have witnessed his hero- 
ism in the field ; and I have ever considered 
him unusually strict in performing every 
duty required of those of his grade in the 
service. He is kind, generous and mag- 
nanimous to all, even to those who have en- 
deavored by slander to detract from his 
true merits. Take him all in all he has not 
a superior in the army.’ 

‘ All this may be very true, Mr. Lee,’ re- 
plied General Gaines ; but this gross act of 
insubordination in times like these — in the 
very heart of the enemy’s country, where 
we are every moment liable to be attacked 
by savage fiends, deserves the severest re- 
buke.’ 

‘ True, General, but I am fully persuaded 
that my friend has not fallen asleep while 
in firm health — some unusual physical in- 
firmity has caused this.’ 

‘ I hope your opinion will be substantia- 
ted upon the day of trial. Good night, gen- 
tlemen, I shall order an officer to supply 
the prisoner’s place for the night.’ Thus 
saying the commanding officer, accompan- 
ied by his aids, left the tent, and after pa- 
trolling around the outposts they entered 
the marquee of the encampment. 

‘ My dear friend,’ said Merrill to^Lee, on 
the General’s departure, ‘ I thank you for 
the kind words you have spoken, but you 
have flattered me far beyond my just de- 
serts. As soon as you left me a sudden 
lethargy benumbed my senses, and enerva- 
ted my limbs to such a degree, I fell upon 
the ground senseless ; and 1 did not awake 
until aroused by the General and his staff 
officers.’ 

‘ I am sure that it was something unusual, 
for you could not close your eyes, while in 
your sober senses, in these critical times ; 
and I doubt not that at your trial a plea of 
this kind will ensure your acquittal.’ 


‘I feel that it would prove of no avail,’ 
replied Merrill. Farewell, my friend ! the 
guard awaits ! 1 must to a prison !’ 

The two lieutenants warmly embraced — 
tears moistened the eyes of both — they part- 
ed, and Merrill was conducted to the guard 
house where a sentinel was placed over 
him. 

Not having fully recovered from his mor- 
bid feelings, he again sunk into a deep 
sleep, from which he did not awake until 
the morning was far advanced. But he 
arose refreshed ; the lethargy which he 
conceived had caused his disgrace had en- 
tirely left him. He looked forth from his 
prison, and thus soliloquised : 

‘ Oh God, what a change has the lapse of 
a few hours wrought in me! Yesterday, I 
was happy ! I felt myself esteemed by my 
comrades, and my reputation as a soldier 
established ! I heard not the opprobrious 
epithets which were applied to me, previ- 
ous to our engagement. No, I heard nought 
but flattering encomiums. I felt pleased, 1 
must confess ; for it pointed me to that 
bright celestial star, whose gentle rays guide 
my every action! For thee, beloved, I have 
attempted the rugged ascent to the pin- 
nacle of fame ! I exposed my life to gain 
the first step ! and thy guardian spirit pre- 
served me from peril ! Yes, sweet Effie,’ 
continued he, taking from his bosom the 
golden casket which had preserved his life 
and opening it; ‘yes, beloved of my soul, 
it was thy spirit, not thy counterfeit herein 
encased, that stood as a sentinel guarding 
the fountain of life while on the bloody 
field of battle. Alas ! how changed ! my 
bright hopes have vanished, and desolation 
and gloom hovers about me ! I am no lon- 
ger worthy thy love, for a dark stain defaces 
my hitherto unblemished escutcheon — and 
should I be acquitted for my first act of in- 
subordination, the stain will still be there, 
for the heavy charge against me admits of 
no denial ! So long as one shadow of it 
remains, the love which I bear thee is not 
worthy thy smallest consideration. And 
yet a smile still lingers upon those sweet lips 
and love yet beams from those resplendent 
orbs! Oh Heaven! would it were true 
that her spirit animated this ‘ counterfeit 


69 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


presentiment’ of herself, then might I be- 
lieve that she would ever look kindly on 
me !V 

His reflections were interrupted by the 
approach of an officer, who came near the 
aperture from whence the prisoner was 
looking. He stopped and gazed upon him 
for a moment, and Merrill saw upon that 
countenance the same hellish smile with 
which he had been greeted once or twice 
before ! It was his rival — his evil genius — 
Sumpter, who had come to triumph over 
his victim. 

‘Ha, ha! I said that we should meet 
again,’ remarked Sumpter, with an air of 
satisfaction. 

‘ Do you pursue me even to a prison ?’ 
asked Merrill. 

‘ Ay, to thy grave ! unless the reparation 
I demand be fully made !’ 

* Go your way ; I have nothing to do with 
thee !’ 

‘But I have with thee my gallant hero!’ 
returned Sumpter, tauntingly. ‘ The day 
is fine, and a walk among these fine groves 
would invigorate you, and we could adjust 
our little matters without interruption. Oh, 
excuse me, I had forgotten your interesting 
condition — my fine bird is caged at last.’ 

‘ Begone, impertinent puppy,’ said Mer- 
rill. 

‘Drive me not away, because I have 
come to do you an act of kindness.’ 

‘Such acts are foreign to a spirit like 
thine — they would ill become thee!’ re- 
turned Merrill, indignantly. 

‘ I can at least give information regarding 
your fate.’ 

‘ I had rather await the result of my trial 
than to hear it from thy lips, were it pos- 
sible for thee to know.’ 

‘Nevertheless, I’ll tell you; your trial 
comes on to-morrow — you will be found 
guilty — perhaps shot! for that is the penalty! 
at least, cashiered ! and those gay trappings 
which you wear so proudly will be stripped 
from you. Your disgrace will be trumpet- 
ed throughout the land — it will reach the 
ears of one who is the idol of your soul ! — 
and who will ever scorn your name after- 
ward! She is mine — ha, ha! Shallow- 
pated fool— to think that you could circum- 


vent and thwart my plans always. I have 
you on the hip now, and if you’ll give me 
your address six months hence I’ll send you 
an account of my marriage with the rich, 
accomplished and beautiful Effie Stan- 
wood !’ 

‘ She would never consent to marry a 
wretch like thee !’ 

‘I need not her consent,’ resumed Sump- 
ter. ‘ I have her father’s written obligation 
that his daughter shall be mine ! And so 
my caged pigeon I wish you all joy in an- 
ticipation of the pleasant prospect before 
you !’ 

With these words Sumpter turned upon 
his heel and walked away. 

‘ Imbecile wretch !’ exclaimed Sumpter ; 
‘that man has not one spark of human 
feeling within him; he would sell his own 
soul to gain a temporary triumph over his 
enemy, however ignoble the means might 
be to accomplish it.’ 

On the following day Merrill, under 
guard, was brought before the Military tri- 
bunal convened for the purpose of investi- 
gating the alleged offence and pronouncing 
judgment upon him. The veteran com- 
mander presided — his aids-de camp were 
the chief witnesses, and upon being called 
to the stand, testified positively against the 
prisoner! Merrill produced no rebutting 
testimony; he did not attempt to explain 
or palliate the severe charge ; but when 
called upon to speak in his own behalf, he 
confessed that every word of the evidence 
against him was true ! All the subordinate 
officers were present, and there was but 
one among them all who did not look with 
an eye of sympathy, and silently prayed for 
his acquittal ! This exception was Sump- 
ter, who sat directly opposite his victim, 
and with the eyes of a basilisk he watched 
his every movement, and when he confes- 
sed his guilt, he inwardly chuckled, and a 
gleam of satisfaction pervaded his corrupt 
heart. General Gaines was affected by the 
general sentiment that prevailed, but it did 
not bias his judgment, nor did it swerve 
him one iota from his duty. He gave his 
opinion upon the merits of the case with- 
out the slightest prejudice, but he dwelt 
w'th severity upon the great breach of dis- 


70 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


cipline that had been committed, and warn- 
ed all against a like offence. H 3 adjourned 
the court-martial until the succeeding day, 
during which time the officers of the court 
conferred together, and passed upon the 
sentence which was to be proclaimed at the 
adjourned session. 

Officers and soldiers were allowed to be 
present on this occasion, and long ere the 
time had arrived, the whole area in front of 
the marquee was thronged with interested 
spectators. 

At length the court was called to order, 
and the prisoner stood before the tribunal 
awaiting his sentence. Not a limb trem- 
bled, not a muscle moved — erect and dig- 
nified, with his large eyes fixed upon the 
judges, he stood like one more ready to re- 
ceive honor rather than the deserts of an 
offender. 

The president of the court-martial arose 
to pronounce the results of their mature 
deliberations. He read the article of war 
which declares that any officer found guilty 
sleeping at his post, in time of war, shall 
suffer death by being shot, or such other 
punishment as a court-martial may deem 
proper after a candid and impartial investi- 
gation of the facts. He alluded to the guilt 
of the prisoner, and he regretted sincerely 
that there was not a single palliating cir- 
cumstance in the case before the court. — 
On the other hand it was aggravated in his 
own mind by indirect information which he 
had received, that the prisoner had been 
for some time in the habit of sleeping at 
his post. He gave credence to this infor- 
mation, for it was the means by which the 
prisoner had finally been detected, but he 
solemnly affirmed that he did not allow it 
to bias his judgment. 

Upon hearing this, Merrill started back 
in surprise ! A new impulse now moved 
him ! A gleam of suspicion for the first 
time thwarted across his mind! He turned 
his head and for several moments fastened 
his gaze upon Sumpter. The latter quailed 
at the penetrating look, and dropped his 
head upon his breast to hide the confusion 
manifest therein. Merrill interrupted the 
president by exclaiming, 

‘I am not guilty ! I have been the vic- 


tim of an unmerciful wretch! By some 
damnable villainy have I been made to com- 
mit this act of insubordination !’ 

‘Silence!’ returned the president; ‘in- 
terrupt not the court, unless you can pro- 
duce some positive evidence to show why 
the sentence should not be pronounced.’ 

Merrill was silent, and bent his eye to the 
ground. 

The president resumed his remarks, and 
addressed him with feeling and eloquence, 
and finally concluded by proclaiming the 
sentence of the court, which was death ! a 
soldier’s death ! — to be shot ! 

When the sentence was read there was a 
murmur of surprise manifested by all pres- 
ent, unless we except the prisoner. He 
had anticipated the worst — he had wished 
it, and he heard the fatal words without 
betraying a single emotion, and he walked 
back to his prison with a firm step and a 
dignified carriage. 

‘ Welcome death!’ soliloquised he, after 
he had entered his place of confinement. — 

‘ I can die bravely — but I could not suffer 
any other punishment with a stout heart — 
to be disgraced and bear the scorn and op- 
probrium of the world, I could not endure! 
But to die is peace — immortal, everlasting 
peace !’ 

With these words he threw himself up- 
on a rude couch, where we shall, for the 
present, leave him. 

A detailed account of the court-martial 
was immediately forwarded to Washing- 
ton, and the execution delayed, until a 
higher authority could be consulted, for it 
was hoped and believed that the condemned 
would be pardoned, or at least that the 
sentence would be commuted. This, how- 
ever, was not known to any but the officers 
composing the court-martial, for it was their 
policy to impress upon the minds of all the 
danger of insubordination, and'to this alone 
may be attributed the severity of the sen- 
tence. 

On the day after the trial, Lieutenant 
Sumpter, on the plea of ill health, surren- 
dered his commission and immediately de- 
parted for the north, without even seeking 
another interview with his reckless accom- 
plice, Ned Dawson. The latter, however, 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


received a letter from him a few days after- 
wards, dated at New Orleans, enclosing a 
hundred dollar note, with assurances that 
on his arrival at Washington, he would pro- 
cure his discharge and make him another 
remittance of money. 

Dawson was completely astounded upon 
hearing the decision of the court-martial ; 
he had not for a moment supposed that the 
punishment could have exceeded a suspen- 
sion from rank. Now that his monied 
friend had gone, he had an opportunity to 
reflect upon his conduct, and he regretted 
having committed the act, for which one of 
his fellow beings was under sentence of 
death. He also reviewed the conduct of 
Sumpter, and came to the conclusion that 


71 

he was a villain of the deepest dye ; and 
he resolved that, rather than have Merrill 
suffer any severe punishment he would him- 
self disclose his own and Sumpter’s villainy 
in carrying this matter so far. But he 
entertained the opinion, as did a greater 
portion of the army, that Merrill would be 
pardoned, he therefore determined not to 
make any revelation until this point was 
fully decided. 

In a few days after Sumptei departed 
Merrill, under a strong guard, was removed 
to the barracks at Tampa Bay, where he 
was closely confined to await the awful 
summons which he momentarily expected, 
and which he felt himself fully prepared to 
meet ! 





lit e m* m#j •'* 


:t 1 1 V 


>»A.f <.•' • Hid 



CHAPTER X. 


Sumpter's An'ival in Boston. Mr. Stanwood makes known his Wishes to Effie. Old Meg 
of the Haunted Gten. Wonderful Disclosure. 


‘He that is good, will infallibly become better, and he that is bad, will certainly become 
worse 5 for vice, virtue, and time, are three things that never stand still.’ 



gain we return to the 
earlier scene of our sto- 
ry. Glad are we to get 
back, and far better can 
we appreciate our na- 
tive soil after traversing 
the morasses and ever- 
glades of the Florida 
Territory. Four weeks 
have now elapsed since George Sumpter 
resigned his commission, and he was now 
in Boston, sedulously pursuing his claims 
to the hand of our beautiful heroine. Since 
his arrival he had been an almost constant 
visitor at the house where she dwelt. Ev- 
ery artifice that the man, whom we shall 
henceforth call her uncle, could invent to 
bring Effie and Sumpter together, was put 
in requisition ; and, although she, on the 
other hand, taxed her powers of invention 
to avoid him, they frequently met. Sump- 
ter was courteous and affable, and devised 
every means to ingratiate himself into her 
favor, but all his advances were received 
with but little show of encouragement. — 
Finding that this mode of proceedure did 
not forward his wishes, he commenced at- 


tacking the character of Lieut. Merrill — 
first by insinuations and then by direct 
charges ; and to corroborate his assertions, 
he left in her way papers containing letters 
from a Florida correspondent — who was 
none other than himself— in which were 
described perverted accounts of the duel, 
and the conduct for which he was arraign- 
ed before a court-martial. As yet, the re- 
sult had not been made public, and he re- 
served this as a climax to his efforts in ut- 
terly annihilating his rival’s reputation in 
Effie’s estimation. 

These several grave asseverations, upon 
the character of him she loved with all 
the fervency of first affection, struck deep- 
ly to her youthful heart, and notwithstand- 
ing the two-fold proof of their truth, yet a 
shadowy doubt, like the light of a dim ta- 
per in the impenetrable darkness of a 
vaulted cavern, flickered amid the gloom 
of her mind. She did not — she could not 
banish his loved image from her heart — 
there it reigned supreme amid sorrow and 
distress— amid doubts, fears, and hopes al- 
most decayed. Sumpter she hated more 
than ever after his zealous efforts in tradu- 


73 


THE WEST POINT* CADET. 


cing his unfortunate victim, and she hesita- 
ted not, on this point, to reveal her feelings 
to the man whom she had been taught to 
call by the endearing name of ‘ father,’ but 
now the word seemed to stop in her throat. 
She was becoming daily more and more 
convinced that this pretended parent was 
playing towards her a treacherous part, and 
she no longer gave heed to his advice when 
contrary to her own feelings. Little did he 
suspect that she possessed the key to his 
great secret, although she had repeatedly 
well-nigh betrayed it by her confusion when 
he addressed her as his daughter. 

One morning^ before the usual hour of 
Sumpter’s calling, Stan wood discovered 
Effie, seated by a window, with her face 
bathed in tears, and apparently greatly af- 
flicted. He approached her and taking her 
hand, kindly spake to her. 

‘ Dear daughter,’ said he, ‘ I have long no- 
ticed your sadness, and it grieves me sorely 
to see you unhappy. Full well I know the 
cause— you love Eugene Merrill — you have 
heard of his disgrace, and that he is no lon- 
ger worthy of your love.’ 

‘I have heard all,’ said she, sobbingly, 

‘ but I love him still.’ 

‘Banish him from your thoughts — the 
struggle may be a severe one — but once 
firmly resolved upon, and you are free. — 
Throw off those demure looks, and with- 
hold those tears. Come, cheer up — one 
who would be your husband, and who is 
every worthy your hand sues for favor from 
those bright eyes now bedimmed by tears. 
One whose wealth and family will place 
you in the first society of our land — you 
will have all that a kind and affectionate 
husband can bestow, and be honored and 
esteemed by the greatest and best.’ 

‘Surely you cannot mean the man who 
is daily importuning me with his addresses,’ 
asked Effie. 

‘ I mean George Sumpter,’ returned Stan- 
wood. 

‘I could never consent to become his 
bride, though he possessed all the wealth 
of the Indies, or though he himself held 
the highest honors which the country can 
bestow. In truth I ever disliked him, and 
now I neither honor, love nor esteem him.’ 


‘Why this strange antipathy agaihsf one 
whose integrity and honor is above im- 
peachment ?’ asked Stanwood. 

‘ He hates him to whom I ‘ have given my 
heart, and I have good reasons for suppos* 
ing that he has done every thing within his 
means to injure him.’ 

‘Remember, Effie, 1 have pliedg'ed my 
word that you shall be his. You are de* 
ceived; your riper judgment will condemn 
what you now approve.’ 

‘Nay, nay, urge me not. I am resolved 
never ’ 

‘ Hear me further, Effie, ere you make 
promises that must be revoked.’ 

l MustV reiterated Effie, startled at the 
import of the word. 

‘Hear me, I intreat. You would not 
bring ruin, disgrace and misery upon the 
head of jour only parent?’ 

‘ I trust that my heart is not void of filial 
love,’ answered Effie, with her expressive 
eyes searchingly watching the countenance 
of her uncle. 

‘ I will he plain and brief, Effie,’ said Mr. 
Stanwood with earnestness. ‘There are 
circumstances, beyond my control, which 
renders it urgent that you should unite your 
fate to that of George Sumpter. These 
circumstances, I regret, cannot be made 
known to you at present. In due time all 
will be revealed, and you will look back 
with pleasure upon the hour that you heed- 
ed your father’s advice. On the contrary, 
should you refuse, my ruin and disgrace 
will inevitably befall me, and you must 
share in your parent’s misfortune. Were 
it not for this, Effie, you might have the 
liberty of bestowing your affections on 
whomsoever your gentle heart might dic- 
tate.’ 

‘ Is there no other alternative ?’ asked Ef- 
fie, with a penetrating gaze. 

‘None!’ 

‘ Wealth I would willingly sacrifice rath- 
er than ’ 

‘ But our reputation is at stake,’ interrup- 
ted Stanwood. 

‘I cannot perceive how Mr. Sumpter can 
save us ?’ said Effie, enquiringly. . 

‘Alas, he possesses the fatal secret which, 


74 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


if you wed him not, sooner or later must 
overwhelm me.’ 

‘ Can it be possible that my hand is to be 
the price of his keeping your secret inviola* 
ble ?’ 

• It is too true,’ said Stanwood with affec- 
ted sorrow. 

‘ Let him then reveal all !’ exclaimed Ef- 
fie with indignation. 4 1 cannot experience 
greater misery than by becoming his bride.’ 

‘Undutiful child,’ replied Stanwood in 
anger; ‘homeless — houseless — a beggar! 
will be your portion, unless you regard my 
wishes. I’ll disown — I’ll disinherit you.’ 

‘Perhaps,’ said Effie, perceiving- the pas- 
sion of her uncle, ‘ perhaps I can prevail 
upon him to grant you a release from your 
obligations to him.’ 

‘Nay, Effie, it is useless,’ replied Stan- 
wood, suppressing the violent emotions 
which her obstinacy had caused. ‘He is in- 
flexible ! his whole soul seems wrapped in 
you, and he would see famine and wretch- 
edness ere he would relinquish his strong 
hold upon me.’ 

‘ Still there can be no harm in the at- 
tempt. He will be here I suppose, as usual, 
this evening.’ 

‘ 1 can have no objections but all your 
entreaties will be vain,’ said Stanwood, as 
he arose and left the apartment. 

‘ Perfidious man !’ thought Effie, ‘ I now 
understand fully his motives. He would 
marry me to a man, who, by his own con- 
fession, is destitute of every good principle, 
and would likewise rob me of my rightful 
patrimony. I fear him — and, oh, Heaven ! 
should he but mistrust that I, too, know his 
secret, he would, I almost believe, seek my 
destruction — perhaps take my life! I can-, 
not flee from him, for he would mistrust 
the motive. I must remain and await my 
destiny. This evening I am to meet the 
heartless Sumpter, and I will use all my 
arts to cause him to banish the hope of ever 
obtaining my hand !’ 

Effie’s thoughts now turned to the object 
which occupied her mind previous to the 
interview with her father — to Eugene Mer- 
rill, and she could not avoid contrasting his 
character, with all the stains which were 
rumored upon it, with that of Sumpter’s or 


with that of the man who called her his on- 
ly daughter! 

Mr. Stanwood had sought out Sumpter, 
and a long conversation was held between 
them ; and it was finally resolved that if she 
still persisted in her refusal, coercive meas- 
ures should at once be adopted. 

Meanwhile, Effie’s reflections were dis- 
turbed by the servant’s announcing a de- 
crepit old woman, who begged permission 
to see the lady of the house. Supposing 
it to be some one soliciting alms, she or- 
dered the servant to admit her. With a 
slow and tottering gait, she entered the 
parlor. Effie, touched with pity at behold- 
ing her feebleness, arose ancbsaid, 

‘ My good woman, be seated in this easy- 
chair.’ 

‘ 1 can help myself, my child ; I am pret- 
ty strong for one of my years,’ said the old 
lady as, with an effort, she seated herself. 

‘Will you have some refreshments?’ as- 
ked Effie. 

‘ God will bless thee for thy kindness, my 
dear young lady. I have not tasted food for 
four-and-twenty hours !’ 

Effie, without waiting to hear more, ran 
and ordered some food, which was quickly 
brought, and placed before the woman, who 
ate heartily. After she had finished her re- 
past, Effie crammed her bag full of little 
cakes, and desired her to come every day, 
and get a supply of food. 

‘What a sweet voice you have got,’ my 
kind young lady, ‘ it reminds me of one, 
who, alas ! has been dead many a year. — 
Let me take thy hand — I can tell a fortin’ as 
well as Moll Pitcher any day !’ 

‘ Can you tell fortunes ?’ said Effie, laugh- 
ingly. 

‘ Her laugh too — alack- a- day I shall nev- 
er cease thinking of my poor, sweet mis- 
tress. Oh yes,’ said the woman in reply to 
Effie’s question. ‘ I have told many a fortin’ 
and they always turns out jest as I tells 
’em. I must put on my glasses — my eye- 
sight has well-nigh failed me,’ she contin- 
ued, taking from her pocket a pair of huge 
iron-bowed spectacles, and placing them 
upon her nose. ‘Now seat yourself before 
me and let me take your left hand. 1 al- 
ways tells fortins on the left hand.’ 


THE WEST 

Effie, curious to hear what the poor old 
woman had to say, did as she was direct- 
ed. 

4 Her hand, too,’ muttered the fortune tel- 
ler as she inspected it closely. ‘ This is a 
pretty hand, sweet lady, and the mate to it 
shall never be clasped at the altar by him 
who now seeks-* ■’ 

4 1 am glad to hear that, my good woman,’ 
interrupted Effie, with a pleasant smile. 

4 Yes, my dear lady, thy judgment is cor- 
rect — he is unworthy of thee. These deli- 
cate but well-defined lines tell strange tales 
You may deem it strange, but I tell thee la- 
dy that you are fatherless !’ 

Effie started, wondering how the old sybil 
could know this secret, but assuming her 
w r onted composure, and in order to elicit 
more from her, said, 

‘Nay, nay — there you are wrong, my 
good woman.’ 

4 Be patient, lady ; the truth of what I 
say, will ere long quicken thy understand- 
ing. Hear me — you love not the man 
whom you call thy father.’ 

The maiden blushed at these last words, 
and bade her proceed with the wonderful 
revelation she had commenced. 

‘Thy mother too is dead!’ resumed the 
sybil ; she was like thee; let me examine 
thy sweet features. Heavens ! what a like- 
ness!’ she exclaimed inaudibly. ‘Those 
sparkling sapphires were truly thy mother’s 
lady,’ continued she in distinct tones, ‘and 
those sweet lips and dimpled cheeks, and 
the expression, too— all, all your mother’s. 
But you have little if^ any recollection of 
her — she died when you were a little child. 
This line,’ she continued, again looking at 
the hand, ‘ tells me that you have experi- 
enced much recent sorrow. Ah! you love 
— the man of thy heart is far away, in sor- 
row' and in trouble, but he bears his fate 
with resignation !’ 

‘ Where ? where ?’ ejaculated Effie. 

‘That is beyond the little knowledge I 
claim to possess above most mortals.’ 

‘ But what is his condition ?’ 

‘ He is in a prison,’ guarded by armed 
soldiers.’ 

‘ What will be his fate ?’ 


POINT CADET. 75 

‘ That knowledge is also withheld from 
me.’ 

‘ Can you tell me whether he is innocent 
or guilty of that which he is charged ?’ 

‘He was pronounced guilty; but I assure 
thee, lady, his heart is right.’ 

‘ Oh, I thank you for that !’ exclaimed Ef- 
fie, beginning to be credulous. 

‘You will find all that Isay to be true.’ 

‘ Tell me more of him, my good woman,’ 
said Effie, earnestly ; ‘ will he be acquitted, 
or must he be punished ?’ 

‘ I can tell thee no more of your lover 
now : but believe him brave and generous 
to all ; true and loving to thee.’ 

‘ What of my own fate?’ 

‘ Let me see, ’said she, examining the palm 
of her hand intently ; ‘ one , two — yes — you 
will have two weddings prepared for thee !’ 

‘ Two weddings ?’ reiterated Effie in sur- 
prise. ‘ Impossible ! It cannot be !’ 

‘My signs never fail me,’ answered the 
pretended sorceress. 

‘You cannot possibly mean that I shall 
ever be the wife of two husbands ?’ 

‘ Of that I do not pretend to know ; but 
two weddings, mark me, will be prepared 
for you.’ 

‘Will they be prepared witb my sanction?’ 
asked the astonished Effie. 

‘ There again 1 am at fault.’ 

‘ Can yon tell me anything of the man 
who claims me as his child ?’ 

The old sybil shook her head in a mys. 
terious manner, which increased the curi- 
osity of Effie. 

‘ Fear not to tell me, my good woman. 
You have spoken of things that I have be- 
lieved but dared not speak of. There was 
a mystery hanging over me which 1 have 
nearly unravelled.’ 

‘Indeed!’ exclaimed the old woman. — 
Let me impress upon you the necessity of 
.'acting with extreme cautiousness. I am 
but a poor fortune-teller, but I can fathom 
the hearts of some men, and read their 
inmost thoughts as readily as I can see the 
rays of the pale round moon when they 
shine through the cracks of my little hovel. 
Hear me, and beware of thine uncle !’ 

Effie again started with surprise. 

‘ Nay, start not — he is thy uncle! lknow 


76 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


him better than thou dost. For twelve long 
years, I have watched him closely as the 
tigress watches her prey. I have dogged his 
footsteps when he felt himself secure from 
observation — like a cat I have slealthily 
crept upon him while meditating upon his 
actions, and concocting his infernal de- 
signs.’ 

■ Say no more of him, I beseech you,’ 
cried Effie, shuddering at the vehemence of 
passion, which the old woman displayed. 
‘ But tell me how came you in possession 
of these terrible secrets ?’ 

‘You will one day know all, dear lady. 
The time is near at hand when his villainy 
shall be exposed — and your wrongs, and 
my wrongs be avenged !’ 

‘ May I ask your name ?’ 

‘ I am known as ‘ Old Meg of the Haunt- 
ed Glen ! A name that well suits my occu- 
pation.’ 

‘ Does my uncle know you ?’ 

* He knows and familiarly calls rne Old 


Meg! I had a better name once — but it is 
gone — tainted! and one he knew well. 
Mark me, when he hears it again it will 
sound like a death knell, and make his very 
bones quake with fear ! But I must not be 
seen here by him — he will soon be back — 
he is how with the gay young southerner 
hatching schemes to complete thy ruin ! 
Good by, lady — God will bless thee, and his 
creatures shall yet learn to honor thee !’ 

With these words ‘ Old Meg of the 
Hauntqd Glen,’ hobbled out of the house. 
Effie watched her footsteps until she was 
out of sight; and she thought that she 
walked more firmly and more erect than 
when she entered the house. 

Bewildered and amazed at the singular 
and startling interview she had had with 
the old fortune-teller, she had scarcely rea- 
son to guide her actions. In this state of 
mind she retired to her room, and there en- 
deavored to compose herself for an inter- 
view with one whom she heartily despised. 









CHAPTER XI. 


The Promised Interview. Rhapsody of Sumpter. His unfeeling Demand. Effie's nolle 
Conduct. The sad Intelligence. Sorrow and Distress. Effie a Maniac. 


“The eve unravelled what the day began.” 


lattered and de- 
lighted beyond his 
present hopes was 
George Sumpter up- 
on hearing through 
Mr. Stanwood, that 
Effie had actually 
desired an interview 
with him ; but on 
learning for what purpose, his happy emo- 
tions gave way to angry and bitter feelings ; 
but these he determined to suppress, and 
assume a bearing that might not be repul- 
sive to the gentle nature of the fascinating 
creature whose hand he sought. 

Evening came, and at an early hour the 
gay and unrelenting southerner repaired to 
the mansion of Mr. Stanwood. He found 
Effie alone, who greeted him as he entered 
with coldness and formality. 

1 1 am most happy, Miss Effie, to obey 
even your smallest request,’ said he in gen- 
tle tones, as he seated himself beside her. 
‘I learned from your honored parent that 
you desired an interview with me.’ 

‘ It is true,’ she replied, ‘and I presume) 


he has acquainted you, also, for what pur- 
pose I desired it.’ 

‘Not directly ; he made a slight intima- 
tion to that effect.’ 

‘You possess a certain secret which has 
an important bearing upon our family ?’ re- 
marked Effie, enquiringly. 

‘True; of the utmost consequence!’ he 
replied with emphasis; ‘and your father 
would have me keep it as sacred as if it 
were my own.’ 

‘To have it known to the world, he tells 
me would plunge him into the vortex of 
ruin and irretrievable disgrace.’ 

‘ Unquestionably — it cannot be other- 
wise.’ 

‘May I inquire if, by making it known > 
you would be benefited thereby ?’ 

‘ Not in the slightest.’ 

‘ And to keep it a secret, can it in any 
manner affect you injuriously ?’ 

‘I assure you that the secret in itself, 
whether divulged or kept locked in my bos- 
om, can have no bearing upon my reputa- 
tion, honor or fortune.’ 

‘Then it cannot be presumptuous or im- 



78 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


proper in me to ask as a favor your promise 
to keep this secret inviolable ?’ said Effie, 
inquiringly. 

‘It would be joy indeed,’ he answered, 
‘could I but hear from thy sweet lips — ’ 

‘Nay, nay,’ she interrupted, ‘you would 
not add a condition to that which requires 
not the slightest sacrifice on your part.’ 

‘ Hear me, fair creature,’ said Sumpter, 
after recovering from a slight confusion 
which her last remark had caused. ‘ From 
the first hour I beheld your wondrous beau- 
ty ’ 

‘ This, Mr. Sumpter,’ interrupted Effie, 

‘ is foreign to the object for which I desired 
to see you.’ 

‘ This is an opportunity 1 have long sought 
for to explain my motives and wishes, and I 
shall esteem it as a favor if you will but 
listen to me.’ 

Effie was silent, and Sumpter proceeded. 

‘ To say that from the firs happy mo- 
ments I accidentally met in your society, I 
have truly loved thee, would but faintly ex- 
press the passion which glows within me — 

I have adored, have worshipped thee with 
my whole soul! I saw thee courted, flat- 
tered and caressed by others, and it filled 
me with hatred for those who dared to ap- 
proach into thy lovely presence. I saw that 
you favored one whom 1 had other causes 
for despising, and who is unworthy of a 
single approving glance from thy love- 
beaming eyes! Meanwhile I have borne 
your disdainful and repulsive looks with a 
patience past all endurance ! and I swore 
that every obstacle which stood in my path, 
at every hazard, should be surmounted — 
regarding neither the common impulses of 
humanity, nor the laws of Heaven or of 
earth, to gain the haven of love and bliss 
which I so fervently desired !’ 

‘ Oh, horror !’ exclaimed Effie, as she 
arose to leave him, but he implored her to 
remain, and she again seated herself. 

‘ Yes, to gain your hand,’ he resumed, ‘ 1 
have committed acts which my better na- 
ture revolts at ! While in the office of Mr. 
Singleton- — ’ 

‘ Singleton ?’ repeated Effie with surprise, 
recollecting the name mentioned in her 
father’s will as the Executor of the estate.’ 


‘Yes, Isaac Singleton, the somewhat no- 
ted Attorney of Court Street, in whose of- 
fice I studied the profession of law,’ con- 
tinued Sumpter. ‘While pursuing my 
studies, I accidentally heard the substance 
of an interview between him and your fa- 
ther, which so excited my curiosity, that I 
immediately resolved, in furtherance of 
the one great object of my soul, to probe 
it to the bottom. My good fortune thus led 
me to an astounding discovery, which I 
determined, if other means failed, should 
be the talisman ic power whereby I should 
ultimately obtain your hand. Finding that 
all my advances were met with scornful 
treatment from you, although your father 
favored my suit, I at length unfolded to him 
my great discovery, and also informed him 
of the ill-success I had experienced in win- 
ning your favor. He was bewildered and 
amazed, and I received offers of large sums 
of money if I would swear secrecy until af- 
ter his decease. All offers of this kind I 
rejected ; and told him of the precious and 
priceless gift which I demanded! He em- 
braced iny offer with delight, and drew up 
an obligation to that effect, which I have in 
my possession duly signed and sealed. I 
need not tell you of the inestimable gift 
which he promises to bestow upon me— 
that is known to you already.’ 

‘And do you intend still to demand the 
fulfilment of this obligation.’ 

‘ I have taken a solemn oath so to do.’ 

‘Renounce the impious oath, and your 
own conscience will tell you that it meets 
the approval of God and man !’ exclaimed 
Effie with spirit and dignity. 

‘ Never !’ returned Sumpter. 

‘Then perish all your hopes !’ exclaimed 
the indignant maiden, falling upon her 
knees in an attitude of prayer. ‘ Before 
High Heaven I swear that rather than be- 
come your wife, I will become a beggar, 
loathed and despised by all mankind ! I 
will tear the beauty from these cheeks, and 
render myself an object that you, George 
Sumpter, will turn from with disgust !’ 

Sumpter was surprised and amazed at 
the indignant spirit manifested by her 
whose gentleness formed one of her attrac- 


THE WEST POINT CADET. * 79 


tions, but he felt not the full import of her 
words. 

‘Nevertheless, you shall be mine!’ said 
he, ‘ your father’s will is law !’ 

‘Flatter not yourself with this fallacy.’ 

‘Remember, you are yet a minor, and 
until you become of age his control admits 
of no dispute.’ 

‘Do you call yourself a man, thus to al- 
low a hopeless passion to be an incentive 
to the baseness which you propose ?’ 

‘ I view it not hopelessly,’ said he, in a 
soothing tone ; ‘ I still hope to see you look 
kindly and affectionately upon me. Let me 
prove by acts of devotion and kindness that 
I am not what I may have seemed. Love 
I admit has carried me beyond the bounds 
of discretion. You can save me from com- 
mitting greater sins, and make me the true 
and affectionate being that once I was.’ 

‘ Do you confess your selfishness in per- 
secuting and depriving me the liberty of 
bestowing my affections on whom I please ? 
Know, too, that I love as fervently and tru- 
ly as yourself. Know, also, that I am the 
betrothed of him whom you have followed 
with your unrelenting vengeance !’ 

‘ He is no longer worthy your smallest 
consideration. He has disgraced the pro- 
fession to which he belonged !’ 

‘ I know that there are rumors afloat pre- 
judicial to his character, but 1 hope to find 
that they are greatly exaggerated.’ 

‘You will, then, be greatly disappointed. 
The truth has not half reached your ears. 
Listen, and 1 will recount a few of his dis- 
graceful acts. First he was severely repri- 
manded for his unbecoming conduct in an 
affair of honor.’ 

‘ Of that I have heard,’ remarked Effie, 

‘ but were the particulars correctly report- 
ed ?’ 

‘They were rendered more favorable 
than the facts justify.’ 

‘ Were you not one of the parties in this 
duel ?* 

‘ I was, and can bear solemn witness to 
his outrageous behavior.’ 

‘But did he not,’ enquired Effie, ‘on the 
same day, perform a praiseworthy action 
by saving the Jives of three persons from 


drowning? If this be true I can forgive 
him for participating in the duel.’ 

‘There was such a rumor, but it proved 
to be wholly unfounded. The noble deed 
was performed by another officer of his 
regiment named Merton. The slight re- 
semblance of names caused the error.’ 

‘ 1 am sorry to hear itAJBut he shew great 
bravery in the battle with the Indians.’ 

‘None who was in the action on that 
bloody day award to him that credit. It is 
true, however, that the little detachment 
under his command, performed deeds wor- 
thy of applause.’ 

‘ It is stated that he was struck down by 
a shot from the enemy ? 

‘It is true — I saw him as he fell; and I 
afterwards learned that he almost miracu- 
lously escaped death through the medium 
of a golden casket, which resisted the fo*rce 
of the ball ; otherwise it would have passed 
directly through his heart.’ 

* Ah! can it be possible?’ ejaculated Ef- 
fie, greatly surprised. ‘ I thank Heaven that 
his life was thus spared. Did you see the 
casket ?’ 

‘ I did not. He would not even allow the 
surgeon to remove it from his neck.’ 

‘Faithful still !’ thought Effie. 

‘You probably know of his more recent 
conduct, for which he is now under sen- 
tence of death ?’ remarked Sumpter. 

‘ Alas ! I have heard of all ! But it is the 
prevailing opinion that he will be pardoned,’ 
said Effie. 

‘ Such indeed has been the opinion, ere 
the late intelligence from Tampa Bay had 
reached here ?’ 

‘ And pray what is that ?’ she asked with 
eagerness. 

‘ Here is a paper containing a letter from 
a Florida correspondent, dated a few hours 
previous to the time stating that all wa*» 
in 5 preparation for Merrill’s execution, 
and that unless a pardon should arrive by 
noon on that day, he would be executed ! — 
This intelligence is corroborated by a letter 
dated at one o’clock, from a private source, 
which says that Lieut. Merrill is no more ! 
He was shot ’ 

Effie for a moment gazed in the eyes of 
Sumpter — her cheeks turned pale — her lips 


80 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


quivered — her whole frame trembled — and 
feebly articulating the word ‘ dead !’ fainted 
and fell senseless upon the floor ! 

Sumpter, really alarmed, rung the bell 
violently — the servants quickly answered 
the summons, and after bathing her temples 
and applying other restoratives, she gradu- 
ally opened her eyes, and staring to those 
about her, faintly spoke, while she almost 
gasped for breath : 

* Did you say shot ? dead ?’ 

‘ So the account reads,’ replied the heart- 
less wretch seated beside her. 

Several moments elapsed ere the feeble 
girl again spoke. Sumpter, in the mean- 


while,. left the house, not well pleased with 
his reception, and filled with astonishment 
at the spirit which she had manifested to- 
wards him. , 

‘Merciful Heavens ! r exclaimed Effie, as 
soon as her persecutor had left her. ‘ What 
sorrowful tidings ! Eugene ! dead ? — did 
he say dead ? or do I dream ? Oh, God ! 
what a dreadful feeling is here ! My brain 
is on fire !’ She gazed around the room 
with a vacant stare and swooned in the 
arms of an attendant ! 

The beautiful Effie Stanwood had be- 
come almost a maniac ! 



CHAPTER XII. 


Tampa Bay. JYight before the Execution. Lee visits the Prison. The Fatal Day. Prep- 
aration for the Execution of the severe Sentence. Interuption Arrival of an old Ac- 
quaintance. 


‘ Friendship ! the mysterious cement of the soul! 
Sweet’ner of life, and solder of society! 

I owe thee much.” 



e take the liberty 
once more of trans- 
porting our patient 
readers back to the 
ungenial climate of 
Florida ; but they 
cannot complain, for 
we do it with greater 
facility than can ev- 
er be accomplished by steam or lightning 
propellers. Like the magician we say ‘pres- 
to change !’ and from Boston to Tampa Bay, 
is but one stride — the work of one moment ! 

It was on one of those lovely starlight 
nights, so peculiar to the southern heavens, 
that Lieutenant Lee left his quarters for the 
guarded prison of the unfortunate young 
officer, lying there under sentence of death! 
No pardon, as was anticipated, having ar- 
rived from Washington, and two reprieves 
having been granted, the last hour of which 
would expire on the following day at twelve 
o’clock, — it was concluded by the com- 
manding officer of the post, that the gov- 
ernment had resolved that he should be ex- 
ecuted, as an awful warning to all others 


who were engaged in the campaign of ex- 
termination against the Seminoles; and 
this resolution, he ordered preparations to 
be made, to carry into effect at the expira- 
tion of the reprieve. 

With this knowledge did Lee, the warm- 
hearted friend of Merrill, gain from his 
commander, permission to visit the prison- 
er. He found Merrill gazing in silence 
through the casement of his prison, at the 
magnificent starry panorama above him. 

So absorbed was his mind in meditating 
upon the mighty works of his Creator, ab- 
stracted entirely from the grosser material 
of this earth, that he did not uotice the en- 
trance of his friend, who had come for a 
last sad interview with him in this world. 

‘ Lieutenant Merrill !’ said Lee. 

‘ Ah, good evening my friend !’ responded 
the prisoner. 

‘ How fares it with you ?’ 

‘ Well! I have been star-gazing,’ said he 
with a smile. 1 1 admire the wonderful 
beauty of the southern constellations. 1 
think they suppass the northern.’ 

‘ 1 am not much of an astronomer,’ replied 


82 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


Lee, yet I have often marked the clearness 
of the evening atmosphere and the myriads 
of sung and planets that make our nights 
in this region far more pleasant than the 
day.’ 

‘ You speak truly,’ resumed the prisoner, 
‘ but to-night, especially, there seems to be 
a peculiar charm about the celestial arch 
that I never felt, nor could even faintly ap- 
preciate before. Perhaps it is because I 
gaze to-night for the last time at these 
heavenly bodies. Yes, my friend, my glass 
i3 nearly run, — to-morrow’s meridian sun 
will end the sum of my existence.’ 

‘I trust that despatches may arrive ere 
the time has passed, proclaiming your par- 
don.’ 

‘Name it not — there is no hope.’ 

‘ Our commander must be prevailed up- 
on to grant another reprieve.’ 

‘ Do not, my friend, give me false hopes — 
I am prepared for the execution ! — I shall 
die like a man! — like a soldier!’ 

‘ May heaven avert the awful decree !’ ex- 
claimed Lee, in solemn accents. 

‘ Talk not thus ; for well you know my 
doom; and you have come to take a final 
leave, and hear my last requests, and for 
this kindness you have the thanks of one 
already dead to the world! and may the 
Almighty bless you for it!’ 

Lee could not restrain the tears which 
were fast falling from his eyes. 

‘Come — come, my friend ! this becomes 
not a stout heart like thine!’ returned Mer- 
rill. ‘Suppress those sympathetic tears — 
be manly — as a soldier should ever be. 1 
need thy counsel — thy confidence ere we 
part !’ 

‘ Command me,’ sobbed Lee. ‘ 1 will be 
faithful to your least request.’ 

‘ Now you show yourself a man. I 
should be a coward myself, in these brief 
hours of my earthly career, to see my friends 
in sorrow at my fate.’ 

‘You look upon death, my dear friend, I 
must confess, with a calmness that I never 
before saw equalled. Even the poor bed- 
ridden invalid, who for years has been look- 
ing towards the tomb, betrays far more fear 
of death, than you, in the prime and vigor 


of manhood, honored, beloved, and esteem- 
ed by all.’ 

‘What is there fearful in death? a mo- 
mentary sensation of pain, and one is ush- 
ered into a new life — an existence which 
has no termination. I hope, aye, I feel as- 
sured that a blessed immortality will be 
mine — that when this mortal coil of sin and 
sorrow is shuffled off, the spirit will ascend 
to the Eternal Father who gave it ! This 
is a prospect not sad and gloomy, but bright 
and glorious — brighter and more beautiful 
than earth can boast.’ 

‘ But the sentence is unjust!’ 

‘I have long since done weighing the 
matter in my mind,’ continued Merrill; ‘to 
me it is of trifling consequenee. I had 
rather die innocently than guiltily.’ 

‘ True, but will not the vengeance of a 
just God punish whoever seeks thy life?’ 

‘ Those who have condemned me, 1 doubt 
not conscientiously believed that they had 
but performed their duty and allegiance to 
the laws of our country. And now, my 
kind friend, hear my last requests. Behold 
this chain that hangs about my neck — at- 
tached to it is a golden casket containing a 
miniature, which saved my life amid the 
carnage of the battle-field. I have promised 
never to remove it from my neck while 
living, nor allow any hands but the fair 
one who gave the precious ' memento to 
me. After the execution, trfke it from my 
neck — here is my written authority for so 
doing. The lady of which this is the coun- 
terfeit, lives in an eastern city — this is her 
address,’ continued he giving him a card. 

‘ When you return to the north seek her out, 
and with her hands place it in her posses- 
sion. Tell her — oh tell her — ’ He hesi- 
tated to give way to the violence of grief 
which overcome him. ‘Tell her,’ he at 
length continued, ‘ that I loved her till my 
latest breath — that her love was the only 
tie that could have bound me to the earth. 
Tell her that I died blessing her. Do you 
understand all ?! 

‘ Perfectly.’ 

‘ Do you promise faithfully to perform the 
dying wish of one who loves, honors, and 
esteems you ?’ 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


83 


‘ Shall I bind myself by an oath ?’ 

‘No — give me but your word — your sim- 
ple promise.’ 

‘ 1 do,’ answered Lee, ‘ to the letter of 
your instructions.’ 

‘ Thanks ! thanks ! my friend !’ and the 
unfortunate man again burst into tears. 

No words can express the grief which 
pervaded the soul of the prisoner’s com- 
panion in arms. He clungaround his neck 
and begged of him to sue for another re- 
prieve ; — in agony he prayed to his maker 
that his life might be spared; — upon his 
knees he beseeched the prisoner to make 
an effort to escape ! -He vowed to assist 
him, and declared he would induce others 
to join with him in the attempt. But his 
prayers, his in treaties, fell like a dead 
weight upon the ears of the condemned. 
He would not heed nor even listen to his 
words so full of pure heartfelt enthusiasm 
in his behalf. 

Lee, finding all his endeavors crushed, 
at a late hour, left his friend, after an af- 
fectionate farewell. He returned directly 
to his own quarters overwhelmed with 
amazement and sorrow at the singular per- 
tinacity which his doomed friend had ex- 
hibited. ^ 

On, the subsequent morning the sun 
arose in unclouded beauty — its first bright 
rays were ushered in by the roaring of min- 
ute guns and the solemn tolling of a bell 
from the fortress of Tampa Bay. The 
reveille was sounded upon muffled drums, 
accompanied by melancholy minor strains 
from the shrill ear-piercing fife. Notwith- 
standing the brightness of old Sol, there 
was a sombre and gloomy look about and 
within the fortress. Each countenance 
wore a mournful aspect, and groups of of- 
ficers and soldiers stood in different places, 
conversing, but in sentences of mysteriou 
import. The joyous laugh was not heard, 
not a smile brightened the countenance of 
a solitary individual, and each one spoke 
in tones so low that indicated there was 
something unusual that engrossed their 
whole attention, and changed the most gay 
and volatile into grief and mourning. 

Rapidly the hours of the morning flew 
by, and at eleven o’clock — one hour previ- 


ous to the time appointed for the execution 
— a military procession, with arms revers- 
ed, and the martial band playing the mourn- 
ful strains of a dead march, issued slowly 
forth from the gates of the barracks and con 
tinued their way until they reached a plat 
of ground, about half a mile distant from 
the fortress, where it halted. The solemn 
and impressive services of the church were 
performed, in which the prisoner, yet calm 
and dignified, took a prominent part. The 
services being concluded, the condemned 
officer was prepared for the execution of 
the awful sentence. At his own request 
his eyes were not bandaged, and he knelt 
down before the coffin, facing the guard, 
who were to perform the sanguinary duty 
imposed upon them. Merrill did not betray 
the slightest symptom of trepidation, and 
his countenance indicated a calmness that 
was truly wonderful ; indeed it has often 
been remarked that there was not one as- 
sembled to witness the execution who did 
not manifest greater terror than the con- 
demned himself. With one foot planted 
firmly on the ground, with his body mainly 
resting upon his left knee, and his right 
arm stretched forth, he awaited the dread- 
ful signal that was to sever the thread of 
his existence. 

The guard consisted of six men; an 
equal number of muskets were brought 
forth ; three of which, in the presence of 
witnesses, were charged with ball and three 
were charged with blank cartridges. The 
soldiers selected the muskets without the 
knowledge of those which contained the 
blank charges, or those which contained the 
swift-winged messengers of death ! 

All was now in readiness, and the first 
word of command was given — the men 
raised their muskets to a shoulder, and the 
officer slowly but with emphasis, exclaim- 
ed : 

‘ Ready ! Aim ! ’ 

Instead of the word, ‘ Fire !’ he shouted, 

‘ Recover arms !’ 

At the moment of giving the word, aloud 
screaming noise penetrated the ears of all 
present. Every eye was turned towards 
the direction from whence the sound pro- 
ceeded — it momentarily increased, and the 


84 THE WEST POINT CADET. 


quick steps of a flying steed was distinctly 
heard. In a moment a horseman issued 
from a clump of trees, and with the speed 
of the wind reached the place of execution. 
The moment he reined in his steed both 
fell to the earth — the horse dead ! and the 
rider fainting with exhaustion ! 

The air now rung with joyous shouts 
of ‘pardon! pardon!’ 

‘ Oh God ! have I arrived in time ?’ fee- 
bly ejaculeted the prisoner. 

One of the officers stepped up immedi- 
ately and enquired if he was a bearer of 
despatches ? 

‘Does he yet live?’ asked the half frantic 
man. 

‘ He does !’ 

‘ Thank Heaven that his life is spared !’ 
exclaimed the man with joy. 

‘ Did you bring any despatches from gov- 
ernment?’ again asked the officer. 

‘ No !’ 

* Who are you ?’ 

‘Edward Dawson, private, 4th Regiment 
of Artillery.’ 

‘ What is your business?’ 

‘ I have come to save the innocent man 
who was sentenced to suffer death ! I am 
the guilty one ! I am the cause of his mis- 
fortunes. To the commanding officer of 
this post I will reveal all ! Lead me to him 
quickly. 

Merrill was escorted back to his place of 
confinement, while Dawson was led into 
the presence of the chief officer. To him 
he confessed his crime, detailing every in- 
cident of the hellish scheme, and implica- 
ting Sumpter as the projector of the plot. 
He confessed, also, that in order to reach 
the post in time, he had stolen the favorite 
steed of his colonel, and had rode him fifty 
miles through the enemy’s country. He 
now gave himself up as a prisoner, and 
begged only that his life might be spared 
until the entire innocence of Merrill should 
be clearly established. 

He was placed under guard, and on the 
next day he was summoned before a mili- 
tary tribunal for a more thorough examina- 
tion. Every thing that he said seemed so 
straight-forward and plausible, besides so 
disinterested in blaming himself and excul- 


pating Merrill, that full credence was giveu 
to his confession. 

On being asked why he did not make his 
confession earlier, he replied by saying that 
it was generally behaved that he would ulti- 
mately be pardoned, thinking that in case 
he was not, he should have ample time to 
save himself from committing the crime of 
murder. But great was his dismay, when 
he heard accidentally from one of his offi- 
cers that poor Merrill was to be executed 
on the day following. In broad day-light 
he had stolen the colonel’s horse and de- 
serted. 

‘ And did you know,’ asked the comman- 
der, ‘ that death is the penalty of the de- 
serter ?’ 

‘Yes, yes, I know all and am ready to 
die the moment he is freed from all dan- 
ger.’ 

‘ So far from inflicting the punishment of 
death upon you for your crimes, I shall or- 
der your discharge immediately on the re- 
ceipt of despatches from Washington, 
sanctioning the proceedings and decision of 
this military tribunal.’ 

‘ But you do not mean to discharge me, 
after such outrageous conduct?’ ejaculated 
Dawson, incredulously. 

‘Yes, I pardon your offences, and ap- 
plaud your recent noble conduct, as well as 
your seeming penitence.’ 

‘And Lieutenant Merrill?’ 

‘ He is fully acquitted and his discharge 
shall be ordered forthwith.’ 

‘ Heaven be praised !’ exclaimed Dawson, 
with earnestness. 

‘ There is one thing more I wish to ask 
you,’ said the officer, ‘ which still seems un- 
accountable ; and that is, how you could be 
guilty of jeopardizing the life of a human 
being, or oven exposing him to punishment, 
after he had once risked his own life in a 
hazardous but successful attempt in saving 
yours.’ 

‘ Saved my life ? When ? How ?’ 

‘ Saved you from a watery grave — here, 
in Tampa Bay, w ith two others,’ replied the 
officer. 

‘ What ? Lieutenant Merrill ?’ 

‘ Yes — the same whom you have so foully 
wronged.’ 


PREPARATION FOR THE EXECUTION 



The condemned Lieutenant about to be executed , when his life is spared by the 
timely arrival of Ned Dawson. 






















































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THE WEST POINT CADET. 87 


‘ Can it be possible ? Saved my life ? 
and I — what a \yretch ! I could torment 
myself to death with a good relish! I de- 
serve to be gibbeted ! The worst torture ot 
the inquisition would be too mild for such 
an ungrateful dog as ’ 

His speech was interrupted by the en- 
trance of Lieutenant Merrill, in full uni- 
form, accompanied by his friend Lee. He 
was congratulated by his fellow officers for 
his narrow escape. 

Dawson gazed at him fora moment, and 
hung his head upon his breast. Advancing 
towards him, he fell upon his knees, and 
meekly said : 

‘ I deserve not your pardon ! I do not 
ask it ! I have forever disgraced myself, by 
attempting to disgrace you ! Kill me — for 
by your hands I ought to die !’ 

‘Arise 1 . I freely forgive you!’ replied 
Merrill !’ 

‘Forgive me? you forgive me?’ ejacula- 
ted Dawson, surprised. 

‘Yes! freely! You have been by far 
the greatest sufferer.’ 

‘I’ll accept forgiveness only on one con- 
dition !’ returned Dawson. ‘ And that is, 
that you will never pardon that villain, 
Sumpter. He was at the bottom of all, and 
made a cat’s paw of me — and I was just 
insane or foolish enough to let him. I should 
just like to have him within my clutches for 
a few moments, I’d skin him alive — I would, 
by Jupiter! You won’t forgive him, will 
you ?’ 

‘Your request is a very singular one,’ 
but you need not give yourself the least trou- 
ble on that point.’ 

‘ I have a few words to say to you in pri- 
vate, concerning Sumpter,’ said Dawson, 
whispering in Merrill’s ear. 

‘ I’ll attend you directly,’ answered Mer- 
rill. He excused himself to his friend for 
a short absence, and went forth towards the 
beach with Dawson. 

The latter narrated to Eugene all the 
particulars of the career of Sumpter, com- 
mencing from the time of the challenge, in 
Boston, up to the period of his resignation, 
facts which he had learned from his own 
lips and from observation. He explained 


the motives of Sumpter’s unceasing perse- 
cutions, and warned Merrill to avoid him. 

‘You do not think that I stand in fear of 
the contemptible villain ?’ asked the latter. 

* You do not fully understand me. 1 am 
confident that you would not turn to the right 
or left, should a dozen Sumpter’s face you. 
But I mean that you must beware of the 
assassin !* 

‘ Why, he has not courage to stab even in 
the dark !’ 

‘ I am well aware of that, too ; but he 
would employ a dozen desperate men to 
take your life, if he could not accomplish it 
otherwise.’ 

‘I will profit by your suggestion ; be as- 
sured I will be on my guard. Can you tell 
me where he is now ?’ asked Merrill. 

‘ In Boston, I suppose ; and you probably 
can guess the motive for which he has gone 
thither. He swore that he would marry 
the girl or ruin her father.’ 

‘ Ruin her father, did you say? How?’ 
asked Eugene, ^agerly. 

‘ He pretends that he is in possession of 
some important family secret, by which he 
rules Mr. Stanwood, as with a talisman !’ 

‘ Family secret ?’ mused Merrill. ‘ It 
may be so — yes, yes — I now conceive, what 
has always appeared unaccountable to me, 
why Mr. Stanwood placed such entire con- 
fidence in Sumpter, when he had certain 
evidence that his habits were dissipated 
and dissolute. Where did you become ac- 
quainted with Sumpter?’ 

‘I first knew him in South Carolina, but 
our acquaintance was slight until we went 
to Boston.’ 

‘ Indeed ! 1 thought I had seen your 

countenance before.’ 

‘ I am heartily ashamed of my conduct 
while there ; but I have been taught a se- 
vere lesson, and now I mean, if possible, 
to make amends for my past viciousness — 
yes, Ned Dawson, henceforth, will be a re- 
formed man !’ 

‘ 1 applaud your resolution, and if you 
remain iir the army, perhaps I may be of 
service to you.’ 

‘ I thank you for your kindness ; but I 
hope to get an honorable discharge from 
the service, and devote myself to some oc- 


88 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


cupation or profession better suited to my 
capacities.’ 

‘ Still I can do you a favor,’ replied Mer- 
rill. ‘ 1 intend to make immediate applica- 
tion for a fuilough ; at the same time I 
can use my little influence to procure your 
discharge.’ 

‘You are too kind !’ exclaimed Dawson. 
‘ May Heaven grant me an opportunity, at 
some future day, to repay your generosity !’ 

The officer and soldier now returned to 
the 'barracks where they separated. 

On the following morning Merrill repair- 
ed to the quarters of the chief officer of the 
post, and asked for leave of absence for 
.three months. He also made application 


for Dawson’s discharge from the army. It 
being necessary for the commandant to 
send the applications to the Adjutant Gen- 
eral at Washington, six weeks elapsed be- 
fore an answer was received. Luckily, 
both requests were granted ; and on the 
next day, Merrill took leave of the many 
warm-hearted and sincere friends he had 
gained since his acquittal, and in company 
with Dawson, left Tampa Bay in a vessel 
bound to New-Orleans. 

While our hero is pursuing his journey 
towards his native city, we will note the 
proceedings of several other characters 
connected with our story. 


< . 7. • \ ,• Cl' ! 













CHAPTER XIII. 


The beautiful Maniac. The Mysterious Package. Happy Discovery. Mr. 
Stanwood and the Attorney. Diabolical Scheme. 


‘ She looked on many a face with vacant eye, 

On many a token without knowing what — 

She saw them watch her without asking why, 

And reck’d not who around her pillow sat, — 

Not speechless, though she spoke not : not a sigh 
Relieved her thoughts, — dull silence and quick chat 
Were tried in vain by those who served.’ 


ritical, indeed, was 
the situation of Effie 
Stanwood, for weeks 
following the dread- 
ful shock she had ex- 
perienced, upon hear- 
ing the mournful ti- 
dings, falsely commu- 
nicated to her by the 
unfeeling and unrelenting Sumpter. For 
many days she was in a state of delirium, 
bordering upon wild insanity: at times, 
however, she manifested symptoms of re- 
turning reason, and deep melancholy the 
while sat upon her once happy and smiling 
countenance. It was a sorry sight for those 
who were her companions ; and even the 
stony heart of her uncle w r as often moved 
with sympathetic emotions; and for hours 
would the truly wretched man pace to and 
fro his library, contemplating his own un- 
merciful deeds, and endeavoring to quench 
the hell that raged within him! More than 
once did feelings of abetter nature prompt 
him to make amends for his crimes — atone 
and reveal all! But then the demi- devil — 


the accursed Singleton — would appear to 
his vivid imagination; and thoughts of 
death ! the scaffold ! would again seal up 
the very fountain of humanity ! 

Upon one occasion, and while endurirg 
the bitterest remorse, he heard the light but 
slow footsteps of the demented Effie, ap- 
proaching the library. Not wishing to add 
new pangs to the anguish which tortured 
his soul, he avoided seeing her by entering 
the apartment adjoining. Smiling sadly, 
and uttering incoherent expressions, she 
entered the library, and seated herself in an 
arm-chair at; the centre table. Her eyes 
glared wildly but cautiously about the room, 
as if to satisfy herself that she was alone, 
and then taking from her bosom a sealed 
package, she thus, in mournful accents, 
gave vent to the thoughts of her disordered 
mind : 

‘He said he was dead — yes, that a bullet 
pierced his heart! He’s in heaven, now — 
oh, how-glad I am that lie’s in so happy a 
place — I shall go there, too, and there we 
shall meet, never again to part ! But not 
yet — J cannot die — I have much to do ere 
that blessed ehange frees me from this 



90 


THE WEST PC INT CADET. 


earthly thraldom ! Yes, this he gave me,’ 
continued Effie, as she gazed upon the seal, 
‘ and charged me when he was dead to break 
the seal ! I have waited patiently with the 
hope that I had been deceived ! but, alas, 
’twas a vain hope! and I must not wait 
longer — the promise must be fulfilled. But 
should he still live, would he not frown up- 
one me ? oh no, he has a heart to forgive ! 
Moreover, he said when I heard of his 
death to break the seal ! Yes, those were 
his words and my duty must be performed.’ 
Saying which, she pressed the seal, that 
bore her lover’s signet, to her lips, and care- 
fully proceeded to break it. 

Meanwhile Mr. Stanwood, who had tar- 
ried in the adjoining room, had heard the 
melancholy accents which had fallen from 
her lips, and cautiously approaching the 
door, he was enabled to witness her actions 
without being himself observed. 

Effie unfolded the envelope and the first 
object that arrested her attention was the 
miniature of Eugene Merrill. Snatching it 
up, she exclaimed with a shrill scream of 
delight : 

‘ He lives ! he lives !’ and gazing upon it 
abstractedly for a few moments, she thus 
continued: ‘Yes, ’tis him! those are his 
eyes — his lips — his manly forehead — his 
noble and commanding figure — and he ga- 
zes upon me with an approving smile and 
a look of love !’ 

She placed it carefully within her bosom, 
and without regarding the papers which the 
envelope contained, she flew to her room 
in a state of happy but delirious ecstacy. 

As soon as Effie had left the library, Mr. 
Stanwood re-entered, and discovered the 
papers which Effie, in her excess of joy at 
discovering the likeness of her lover, had 
entirely unnoticed. Upon examination he 
found that they were the deeds and the last 
will and testament of Eugene Merrill. His 
surprise was increased when he discovered 
that the will bequeathed to Effie Stanwood 
the whole of the large property, represented 
by the deeds. A damning thought now 
flitted across his brain, that these estates 
might easily be added to his own. For a 
lang time he sat in his chair contemplating 
the vile scheme which his avarice had sug- 


gested ; but at length an impulse of a bet- 
ter nature influenced his heart, and prompt- 
ed him to take no advantage of the papers 
and to place them immediately in the hands 
of his neice ; and he was about to put his 
good intention into effect, when he was irv- 
terrupted by the unceremonious entrance of 
the tormenting Attorney, Isaac Singleton. 
Confused at this unexpected meeting, he 
started back and attempted to conceal 
them from the penetrating curiosity of the 
lynx-eyed Attorney, but it was useless, for 
the villain had stood at the threshold of the 
door, and had learned all that Mr. Stan- 
wood himself knew in regard to them. 

Without betraying that he knew ought of 
the matter which his monied victim tried to 
conceal from him, he quietly seated himself 
without uttering a word. 

Stanwood, incensed at the imperturbable 
and impertinent manner of the Attorney, at 
length addressed him : 

‘Mr. Singleton, you are intrusive. There 
is a bell-knob upon my outer door, which 
gentlemen make use of when they desire to 
enter my house !’ 

‘ Humph ! Your house !’ muttered Sin- 
gleton, smiling contemptuously. 

‘Sir, your business with me ?’ demanded 
Stanwood. 

‘I come to ask you for my annuity of 
three thousand dollars!’ 

‘But the year has not yet expired?’ 

‘True; but was the particular day speci- 
fied in our agreement? What if I had de- 
manded it in advance, would you have dar- 
ed to refuse me ?’ 

‘ Say no more !’ answered Stanwood. ‘ I 
would not bandy words with you for twice 
three thousand ! There is your money,’ 
he continued, as he took several bank notes 
from a small escrutoire and handed them 
to Singleton. 

‘ And there is my receipt for the same,’ 
added the latter. 

For several moments neither party spoke* 
The Attorney manifesting no symptoms of 
leaving the house, and Stanwood wishing 
him out of his sight, the latter arose as if 
he intended retiring himself, in order that 
the former might take the hint. But this 
movement did not succeed, for the intruder 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


quietly kept his seat. At length Stanwood, 
becoming impatient, said : 

‘ You will excusa me, Mr. Singleton. I 
have an engagement at twelve o’clock.’ 

‘ And so have I ; but it lacks nearly an 
hour to that time. Be seated, 1 have learn- 
ed a piece of information, this morning, that 
may be of interest to you.’ 

‘Indeed! what is it?’ demanded Stan- 
wood, re-seating himself. 

‘ Eugene Merrill, the possessor of one of 
the most valuable estates in this city, is 
dead !’ 

* It is so reported.’ 

‘ He loved Effie Stanwood.’ 

‘ True.’ 

‘He was her betrothed.’ 

‘Your information I have already learn- 
ed,’ returned Stanwood, impatiently. 

‘ It is supposed by some of his connex- 
ions that he left a greater portion if not the 
whole of his property to your daughter.’ 

‘ And what if he did ? He had a perfect 
right so to do. The documents are now in 
my possession ; and she is not yet aware of 
her good fortune.’ 

‘ Indeed !’ said the Attorney, musingly. — 
‘And I dare presume it is decided that the 
same care shall be taken of this estate that 
was taken in managing your brother’s ?’ 

‘ No !’ exclaimed Stanwood. ‘ Devil as 
thou art, you cannot tempt me to commit 
another crime ! These papers shall be sur- 
rendered into her hands as soon as she re- 
covers from the severe mental malady that 
now afflicts her.’ , 

‘ What ? you will not suffer this splendid 
prize to slip so easily through your fingers ?’ 

‘Yes! and if it were double I would do 
it.’ 

‘ Weak man, by taking possession of this 
property, you cannot be injured,’ resumed 
Singleton. ‘ You are soon to get rid of the 
girl, you know ?’ 

‘ How ? what mean you ?’ ejaculated Stan- 
wood. 

‘ Ha, ha! You thought to keep the secret 
from me! George Sumpter is to be the 
husband of the girl! and in consideration 
thereof, he is to keep your secret, and re- 
move his bride to the south ! Is it not so ?’ 


91 

‘I do not deny it; but in what possible 
manner can this interest or affect you ?’ 

‘ Hear me, and you shall know,’ said the 
Attorney with an air of seriousness. ‘ You 
gave me your word that none knew of this 
matter save ourselves ; when at the same 
time you had not forgotten your compact 
with Sumpter. Now, sir, you have at- 
tempted to deceive me— you hare forfeited 
your promise, and if I choose I can as easi- 
ly forfeit mine !’ 

‘ But you cannot — dare not ’ 

‘Oh, I dare do anything ! Now listen to 
my proposal. Cause Sumpter and the girl 
to be married forthwith ! hurry them off! 
and then take possession of this princely 
estate. Allow me to share it with you, and 
1 will forever leave this country, and thus 
you will not only add tens of thousands to 
your immense fortune, but rid yourself of 
all fears at once.’ 

‘ Should I listen to these outrageous 
terms,’ answered Stanwood, ‘I could have 
no positive assurance that your word would 
be kept.’ 

‘My actions shall convince you. I will 
first sell all my real estate in this country, 
and depart for France as soon as the mar- 
riage has taken place. I will take your 
written promise that you will remit to me 
half of the present appraised value of the 
Merrill estate, within one year after my de- 
parture.’ 

‘ I accede to your terms,’ said Stanwood, 
promptly, ‘provided the marriage can be 
consummated.’ 

‘In that there surely can be no difficul- 
ty-’ 

‘ I fear more than you apprehend. She 
has, against all my intreaties, peremptorily 
refused to marry Sumpter. Besides, her 
grief, at the tidings of the death of her lov- 
er has well-nigh unstrung her nerves, and 
impaired the saneness of her mind. For 
hours does she talk of him, and laugh and 
weep alternately. She now entertains the 
idea that he still lives, and seems in a state 
of ecstatic bliss, though the wildness of her 
eyes, her incoherent language, betrays the 
lunacy of her brain.’ 

‘ So much the better for our purpose !’ re- 
marked the soulless Attorney. 


92 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


Their conversation was now interrupted 
by the ringing of the door-bell, and George 
Sumpter was announced and entered the 
library. He manifested no surprise upon 
seeing the Attorney in conference with Mr. 
Stanwood, for he had recently several in- 
terviews with the legal gentleman at his of- 
fice respecting the discovery that he had 
made prior to his departure for the south, 
and his compact with Mr. Stanwood, by 
virtue of which he was to demand the beau- 
tiful Effie for his bride. 

4 You have come in good time,’ said Sin- 
gleton. ‘ We were arranging the prelimi- 
naries for your marriage, and I see nothing 
to prevent the union taking place within a 
day or two at farthest. Your intentions 
have been published the length of time re- 
quired by the statute.’ 

‘ I care not how soon,’ replied Sumpter. 
‘ Let it be to-morrow or next day.’ 

4 If the dreadful sacrifice is ever to be 
made, let it come as quickly as possible,’ 
said Mr. Sumpter, despairingly. ‘But I 
had rather lose half my fortune, than to 
give my sanction to this unjust and hellish 
act.’ 

4 And I would not release her for all the 
wealth you possess,’ returned Sumpter. 

4 1 see not how it can be,’ remarked the 
Attorney. 4 Ruin and the vengeance of the 
laws will be our inevitable fate, if the obli- 
gations be not fulfilled.’ 

4 If there is no remedy let the worst come. 
Let the infernal plot go on!’ exclaimed 
Stanwood. 

4 Then to-morrow let the wedding be,’ re- 
turned Singleton. 

4 But who shall perform the ceremony ?’ 
asked Sumpter. 

4 Leave that to me. Being a Justice of 
the Peace, 1 am fully competent to per- 
form the marriage myself, and in case I 
cannot engage the services of a reverend 
gentleman of my acquaintance, who never 
scruples at anything when gold is to be the 
fee, I will do myself the honor of officia- 
ting.’ 

4 1 care not, providing all the proceedings 
are perfectly legal,’ said Sumpter. 

4 Mr. Stanwood, 1 returned the Attorney* 


4 you most have your daughter prepared to 
undergo the solemn rites. You understand 
me,’ said he significantly. 

‘I heed no more of your promptings,’ re- 
plied Stanwood. ‘ Since I have become a 
devil under your tuition, every means 
necessary to accomplish our unmerciful 
scheme, will readily suggest themselves.’ 

4 Ah ! very complimentary,’ said the At- 
torney, smiling. 4 You will one day become 
worthy of your master. I must look after 
my laurels. But fifty years hence we shall 
be on an equality.’ 

4 How so ?’ 

4 Death levels all.’ 

4 Indeed ! I thought you aspired to be 
his Satanic Majesty’s Prime Minister,’ said 
Stanwood, satirically. 

4 Seriously, if I believed in such a place 
as Milton has so eloquently described, 1 
think I might have some ambitious yearn- 
ings,’ replied Singleton. 

4 And you do not believe it, or how came 
you possessed of traits and powers that be- 
long to none but the devil and his children?’ 
asked Stanwood. 

. 4 Did you know my origin and history, 
you would readily comprehend. Suffice it 
to say they emanated here — and here !’ said 
Singleton, striking his own breast and 
forehead. 4 1 was the offspring of a pol- 
luted mother — nursed in the cradle of pov- 
erty and wretchedness — schooled in the 
dens of poverty and vice and infamy — and 
my heart hardened by the kicks and buffets 
and scorns and threats of an inhuman 
world. When I verged into manhood, I 
forsook the wretched haunts of poor devils, 
and raised myself into the gilded parlors 
and saloons of rich ones; and among them 
for years have I revelled and rioted. Many 
a gilded villain has been compelled to pay 
me tribute, that he might live and enjoy his 
own plunder. My experience has taught 
me that the hearts of men vary but little, 
notwithstanding there is a wide chasm 
which divides the inmates of miserable 
hovels and cellars, and the princely palaces 
and parlors of the rich and great. In the 
one nought but sin and misery are to be 
found; and in the other, apparent happi- 


93 


THE WEST 

mess and luxurious comforts abound, yet the 
wide difference in the hearts of men in these 
two stations does not exist. But I cannot 
spend my moments in philosophizing, so 
gentlemen I’ll bid you a good day. At 
what hour shall the nuptial ceremony be 
performed?’ . 

‘ At eleven o’clock to-morrow, if it meet 
with the wishes of the bridegroom.’ 

‘ As it may please you,’ answered Sump- 
ter. 

‘ I shall be punctual,’ remarked the At- 
torney, as he left the library, leaving Mr. 


POINT CADET. 

Stanwood and Sumpter to arrange the 
minor matters for the approaching nuptials. 

‘That man is a great villain!’ remarked 
Sumpter, after the Attorney had gone. 

‘He’s a devil!’ added Stanwood. ‘He 
would contaminate a saint!’ 

‘ I believe it ; for I learned more villainy 
while in his office, than I have ever learned 
out of it. But he’ll get his just deserts at 
some future day.’ 

‘ If he does not, both 'Heaven and earth 
are void of justice. 



* / 













. . 1 • 










CHAPTER XIII. 


A meeting of Old Acquaintances. Despair of Merrill. The Bridal Day. The Stranger 
Guest. Barbarous Conduct of Sumpter. His defeat. Triumph of Merrill. The 
precious Trio in Jail. 


“ Their lives to selfish ends decreed, 
Through blood and rapine they proceed ; 

No anxious thoughts of ill repute 
Suspend th’ impetuous and unjust pursuit.” 


efore narrating the 
several incidents that 
transpired on the ap- 
pointed nuptial day, 
it is essential to the 
true development of 
our story to inform 
our re'aders of the ar- 
rival of Lieutenant 
Merrill and George Sumpter, on the day 
preceding the interview of the precious 
trio who figure in our last chapter. With- 
out making known their arrival they took 
lodgings in an obscure but respectable part 
of the city. Dawson immediately sought 
out the residence of his quondam friend, but 
he was not successful in finding him, until 
the following day, when he accidentally met 
him on his return from the mansion of Mr. 
Stan wood. Sumpter was greatly surprised 
and Dawson was apparently equally so. 
After exchanging cordial salutations, the 
latter enquired tfie news. 

‘ Give me joy, *ny boy !’ answered Sump- 
ter exultingly. ‘I have great news! glori- 


ous news ! My success is complete ! I have 
triumphed !’ 

• Explain.’ 

‘ She’s mine ! my dear fellow ! she’s 
mine !’ 

‘ What ? married ?’ 

‘Not yet! but shall be to-morrow !’ 

‘ Indeed! to whom, pray ?’ 

‘ Why, to whom can it be but Effie Stan- 
wood, the charmingly beautiful, the ac- 
complished, and the admired of all admir- 
ers !’ 

‘ To-morrow did you say ?’ enquired 
Dawson. 

‘ Ay, to-morrow my friend ; and you shall 
make one of the guests. It comes off at 
twelve o’clock — be punctual !’ 

‘It will be quite impossible. I have a 
friend in town with whom 1 have an en- 
gagement.’ 

‘ Oh never mind your friend ; you must 
be a witness of my marriage. Bring your 
friend with you. Why not ?’ 

‘ I hardly believe he would attend ; how- 
ever I will bear him your invitation,’ an- 
swered Dawson. ‘ But how is it, has the 
girl forgotten her old flame, hey ?’ 



THE WEST POINT CADET. 95 


‘ What do you mean, the disgraced, the 
condemned Merrill ?’ 

* The same.’ 

‘No— but what care I for that? She 
WGfcps and moans like a child for its mother. 
But once mine, and she will come to her 
senses. 1 intend to leave immediately for 
the South, and the excitement of travel and 
receiving the attentions of new friends will 
dissipate from her mind all thoughts of the 
ruined Merrill. , 

‘ Well, excuse me now}’ said Dawgon, as 
he arose to depart. 

‘ You will not fail to come ?’ 

‘If possible, be assured I will be there.’ 

Dawson took his departure forthwith and 
repaired to the hotel where Merrill waited 
with impatience his coming. To him he 
rtlated his morning visit to Sumpter, and 
the information that he had gained from 
him. 

•Alas!’ said Merrill; ‘all then is over — 
my high hopes vanish — all ’ 

‘Nay — nay,’ interrupted Dawson; ‘all 
shall yet be well, I have an invitation to at- 
tend the wedding, and was also desired by 
Sumpter to bring my friend with me ; of 
course it is quite impossible for him to know 
who he is.’ 

‘But I could not ’ 

‘ Oh yes,’ again interrupted the zealous 
Dawson, ‘ you must; it is the only course. 
You can disguise yourself so that he will 
not know you ; and I can introduce you as 
an uncle of mine, just returned from a 
voyage around the world.’ 

i Well — well — it can do no harm ; and I 
shall behold her once more !’ replied Eu- 
gene, despairingly. ‘And then I— yes— I 
will then return to my post and give my 
short remaining existence to the service of 
my country. Oh God! that I should ever 
come to this ! But the villain shall be pun- 
ished! No — I cannot now injure him 
without inflicting an injury upon his affi- 
anced. When it is all over I will return 
this precious casket, so dear to my eyes, 
and tell her of the joy it has has given me 
in the hours of affliction. Tell her that 
it once saved my life; but ah! now I would 
that it had not arrested the little messenger 
aimed at my heart ! The sad scene which 


I am about to witness would have been 
spared me,’ 

‘ Come ! come!’ returned Dawson. ‘These 
feelings become not a brave heart like thine! 
Cheer up! Hope on! while the beauteous 
girl is yet free from the arms of the un- 
scrupulous villain. Let us prepare for the 
events of to-morrow.’ 

‘Be it as you will!’ returned Merrill. 

‘ But I am not in a mood to ’ 

‘ Never mind,’ interrupted Dawson, ‘leave 
all to me.’ 

#*####* 

Let us again return to the mansion of the 
beautiful but still demented Effie — the in- 
tended victim of a cowardly, criminal and 
imbecile Southerner, sanctioned by an un- 
feeling and avaricious uncle, the dupe of 
the soulless and fiendish Singleton. 

It was a dark and gloomy morning — the 
rain poured, and almost flooded the streets 
of tbe city, and the prospect of a pleasant 
day was anything but flattering. Effie was 
seated at a window, gazing alternately at 
the black clouds which were driven before 
the furious blast, and upon a miniature 
which she held in her hand. 

‘ He’ll not come to day,’ she soliloquised. 
‘The storm is too violent for him! The 
thunderbolt might descend upon his devo- 
ted head and crush him to the earth ! No, 
I know he’ll not brave a tempest like this! 
To-morrow I shall see him — the sun will 
then shine — the birds will sing — and the 
sweet flowers will look fresh and beautiful! 
Ah ! then he will come ! ’ 

Farther utterance of the thoughts of her 
distempered mind was now arrested by the 
entrance of Mr. Stan wood, who gently 
communicated to her that that was her 
wedding-day, and that he would send her 
maids to assist in arraying herself for the 
bridal hour. 

‘Not to day? he will not come to-day?’ 
said Effie, enquiringly. 

‘Yes, to-day,’ he answered. 

•But do you not behold the raging of the 
elements ? Think you he will dare to ven- 
ture forth in such a storm as this?’ 

‘ Yes my child.’ 

‘ I shall be glad to see him, but I like not 
such a day as this for my bridal !’ 


96 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


‘ It will be more pleasant by and by,’ said 
Mr. Stanwood, as lie retired from the room. 

Having given instructions to Effie’s wait- 
ing-women to repair to her room and assist 
in arraying their beautiful mistress for the 
nuptials, and also charging them to make 
no conversation with her on the subject, he 
repaired to his library, where he found 
Sumpter and the Attorney, who had al- 
ready arrived and awaiting with patience 
the bridal hour. 

The magnificently furnished parlors were 
now thrown open, and just before the clock 
struck twelve, Mr. Dawson, and his friend, 
entered. They were met by Sumpter with 
a cordial greeting, when Dawson formally 
introduced his friend, Captain Kelleran, 
who had the day before completed his 
voyage around the world. Sumpter beg- 
ged them to be seated and to excuse him 
for a few moments, when he should have 
the felicity of introducing them to his in- 
tended bride. Dawson was now alone with 
his friend, and in a few moments their at- 
tention was arrested by the voice of a fe- 
male, singing a plaintive air, in an ad- 
joining apartment. Struck by the mournful 
and wild strains, they listened attentively, 
and the following simple song was distinct- 
ly heard : 

They told me he was dead ! 

And In the tomb was laid: — 

That o’er his sacred head — 

The wild flowers bloom and fade. 

How false their tidings were — 

They thought me to deceive ! 

Ah ! now I ken he lives, 

This heart no more shall grieve. 

Anon we’ll meet again, 

No more on earth to part ; — 

Sorrow ne’er more shall reign 
Triumphant o’er this heart. 

My cheeks again shall glow, 

With beauty’s ruddy bloom ; 

My heart again will rise 
From out its dismal tomb. 

With him I’ll live and love ; 

With him I’ll mourn and die ; — 

With dove-like wings we’ll mount 
To blissful scenes on high. 


‘ Are not these the strains of a diseased 
mind ?’ asked the stranger. 

‘ They sound melancholy, indeed !’ re- 
turned Dawson. 

Their conversation was interrupted by 
the entrance of Mr. Stanwood, the Attorney 
and the bridegroom. The strangers were 
introduced, and all seated themselves, to 
await the entrance of the beautiful bride. 
At length the door opened and two female 
attendants appeared, followed by Effie Stan- 
wood. She was clad in a simple but grace- 
ful white robe, without jewels or other or- 
naments, unless we except a string of pearls, 
to which was attached the miniature of 
Eugene Merrill, and a plain white rose 
which rested upon her throbbing bosom. 
Not the slightest tinge of color was visible 
upon her cheeks or lips, but seemed as 
white and fair as the rose upon her breast. 
The lustre ot her laughing eye was gone, 
and she gazed mildly not upon objects but 
upon the impalpable air. Her figure was 
erect and symmetrically beautiful, and she 
moved forward slowly and with the dignity 
of a queen. About her pearly- white neck 
flowed the golden tresses which grew nat- 
urally and luxuriantly from her well-shap- 
ed head. In the language of the poet, she 
was 

‘ Light as the angel shapes that bless 
An infant’s dream, yet not the less 
Rich in all woman’s loveliness — ’ 

Her father approached her as she entered 
the room, and taking her by the hand he 
led her towards Singleton, who stood, with 
a prayer-book in his hand, ready to perform 
the bridal service. The maiden stopped, 
and glancing her eyes about the room, said 
with a low but mournful voice, 

‘ He has not yet come ?’ 

‘Is not this madness?’ whispered the 
stranger into the ears of Dawson, both of 
whom sat in another part of the room. 

‘ She looks like a maniac angel !’ replied 
the latter. 

‘ Oh God I that I should ever see her thus. 
Their hellish schemes must he thwarted. 
I’ll make one effort if I die in the attem| t !’ 
sternly whispered the stranger. 

‘ Not yet, not yet 1’ hurriedly replied Daw- 
son. 


97 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


Sumpter now approached the Justice, 
when Mr. Stan wood placed Effie’s hands in 
his. She turned, and looking him full in 
the face for a moment, withdrew her hand 
suddenly from his grasp, and saying, 

‘You are not Eugene! he has not yet 
come. I must wait patiently for him !’ 

‘ Take her hand,’ commanded Singleton. 
‘Our solemn rites must not be interrupted.’ 

‘ Never !’ exclaimed Effie. ‘ Ah ! I have 
been deceived !’ she cried, looking wildly 
about her ; ‘ what means this bridal array ?’ 

Mr. Stanwood and Sumpter now seized 
the terrified maiden, who had partially 
awoke to consciousness, and they endeav- 
ored to hold her while the ceremony could 
be performed. She uttered a shrill and 
terrific scream and fainted. Even while in 
this state the Justice commenced reading 
the marriage service. 

‘ Oh God ! I cannot look upon this scene 
longer!’ exclaimed the stranger to Dawson, 
and boldly approaching the Justice, he 
commanded him to desist. 

‘ Who dares thus interrupt our solemn 
rites ?’ demanded Singleton. 

‘ Villain, leave my house !’ added Stan- 
wood. 

‘Whoever you are,’ said Sumpter, ‘be- 
gone instantly, or you shall suffer for your 
audacity !’ 

‘ Are ye men, or are ye devils !’ answer- 
ed the stranger. ‘Think you that the laws 
will sanction this diabolical outrage upon 
an insane and unconscious maiden ?’ 

‘ Who are you that is so bold of speech ?’ 
demanded Sumpter. 

‘ One who knows thee for a villain ! a 
coward ! and a puppy !’ answered the stran- 
ger, as he threw off his disguise, and ap- 
peared before them in the full uniform of 
an officer of the United States army. 

‘Merrill!’ exclaimed all, thunderstruck 
at beholding the sudden metamorphose. 

Sumpter grated his teeth, and a fiendish 
smile stole over his features. He clenched 
the hilt of a dagger firmly in his hand, and 
approaching his rival, he suddenly drew it 
forth, and was about to strike it to his heart, 
when his arm was suddenly arrested by 
Dawson, who had watched narrowly every 
movement of the villain. Turning round, 


he was in the act of plunging it into him 
who had dared to interfere in his last des- 
perate effort of revenge, but Merrill drew 
his sword quickly from its sheath, and in 
time to knock the weapon from the assas- 
sin’s grasp ere he could accomplish his mur- 
derous intent! 

All of this was but the work of a mo- 
ment, and gave no time for the interference 
of others. Sumpter was enraged to ex- 
cess and almost incontrollable. At length 
finding further resistance useless, and his 
great scheme wholly frustrated, he began to 
rail, in barbarous terms, at his treacherous 
ous friend, Dawson. 

‘Ungrateful dog!’ exclaimed he, ‘this 
then is your work ! This is my reward for 
raising a beggar to a gentleman, and keep- 
ing him from starving !’ 

‘Yes,’ replied Dawson, ‘and when in 
your service, I came near running my 
neck into the noose of the hangman.’ 

‘ And you shall not escape now ; you 
shall be punished as a deserter, and death 
is the penalty !’ 

‘ Do not flatter yourself,’ returned Daw- 
son ; ‘ through the influence of my true and 
honest friend, I have obtained an honorable 
discharge.’ 

During this conversation, Merrill knelt 
before the couch, on which reclined the 
unconscious Effie, while her attendants 
were endeavoring to restore her. At length 
signs of life became apparent, and gradual- 
ly she opened her eyes, and with a fixed 
stare for many moments bent them upon 
her lover. He took her delicate hand with- 
in his own, and pressing it to his lips, gent- 
ly breathed her name. She raised herself 
suddenly, threw her arms fondly about his 
neck, and exclaimed, 

‘Eugene! Eugene! he lives! he lives!’ 

The tears flowed copiously down her pale 
cheeks ; not tears of grief, but tears of joy ; 
and once more the light of reason illumi- 
nated the soul of our lovely heroine. She 
clung to the noble form of Merrill, and ga- 
zed long and fondly upon his handsome fea- 
tures. 

A rupture was now taking place between 
Singleton and Stanwood, who had been in 
earnest conversation for several minutes. 


98 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


‘ I shall reveal all !’ exclaimed Stan wood ; 
‘ on that 1 am resolved !’ 

‘ On your head, then, will fall the dread- 
ful penalty. Death! the gallows !’ returned 
the Attorney. 

‘ Far better than the vengeance of an an- 
gry Deity !’ 

‘Even that you will not escape !’ mutter- 
ed Singleton, as he approached the door to 
depart. As he opened it, the crouching fig- 
ure of ‘ Old Meg of the Haunted Glen,’ 
stood before him, He attempted to pass by 
her, but the old sybil took him by the collar 
and thrust him back into the room. 

‘ Vile reptile !’ she exclaimed. ‘Your ca- 
reer on earth is nearly ended ! Hell yawns 
to receive another devil! Stir not, or the 
next moment shall be your last !* 

‘Old Meg of the Haunted Glen!’ ex- 
claimed Stanwood, surprised at her sudden 
appearance. 

‘Old Meg no longer!’ crid she as she 
stripped the tattered garments from her 
back, and tore the old grey, knotted wig 
from her head. ‘Behold me now! ha, ha!’ 
and a tall, erect and dignfied woman, of 
about forty-five years of age stood before 
them, with her right hand stretched forth, 
and gazing exultingly upon the two avari- 
cious wretches who now stood qualing with 
fear before her. 

* It is Catherine Ormsby ! Merciful Heav- 
ens! I thought she was dead !’ exclaimed 
Stanwood, 

‘Yes, but it is no fault of yours that I 


am not dead! You paid well for the deed, 
but the monster there deceived you ! The 
hour of my revenge has now arrived.’ 

She retreated towards the door, and sud- 
denly throwing it open, four constables en- 
tered the room. 

‘Those are the wretches!’ said Catherine 
Ortnsby, pointing to Stanwood and Single- 
ton. ‘Bind them fast! away with them to 
a dungeon !’ 

Lieutenant Merrill now called aside the 
leader of the legal posse, and placing in his 
hand a warrant from the United States Mar- 
shall bade him execute it forthwith. 

The constable approached Sumpter, who 
was yet bandying words with Dawson, and 
enquired if his name was George Sumpter. 
He replied in the affirmative. 

‘ Then you are my prisoner !’ 

‘Your prisoner?’ reiterated the surprised 
Sumpter. ‘ Impossible, sir!’ 

‘ Read the warrant ; that will convince 
you. 

On examination he found that he was ar- 
rested for conspiring against and placing in 
jeopardy the life of Lieutenant Merrill, 
while an officer of the army in Florida. 

Finding it folly to make any resistance, 
and perceiving Merrill standing before 
Effie with a drawn sword in his hand, he 
submitted to be manacled and was taken, 
with the other prisoners, from the princely 
mansion, to the 
Suffolk county 


parlors of a B street 

gloomy dungeons of the 
Jail ! 


CHAPTER XIV. 


CONCLUSION. 

1 AlPs well that ends well.’ 


our weeks more had 
passed away, since 
the arrest of the 
three heartless vil- 
lains who have fig- 
ured conspicuously 
throughout these pa- 
ges. Effie Stan wood, 
under the kind and 
efficient attention of Catherine Ormsby — 
she who had nursed her in infancy — was 
restored to perfect health. The bloom again 
appeared in her cheeks, and she seemed 
more lovely than ever. The story of the 
villainy of her uncle was made known at 
his trial, when he, together with his accom- 
plice, was convicted and sentenced to state- 
prison for life ! Stanwood committed sui- 
cide the night after his sentence, leaving a 
written confession of all his crimes, which 
went far in substantiating the claims of Ef- 
fie Stanwood as the heiress of an immense 
fortune. The Attorney, Singleton, can he 
seen any day, during working hours, at the 
Penitentiary in Charlestown. Sumpter was 
tried before the United States Court, and 
Sentenced to ten years imprisonment, but 


through the official influence of his father 
obtained a pardon. He was sent abroad in 
a frigate, and was final shot in an affray at 
Port Mahon, but a year or two since. 

The most pleasant part of our story is yet 
to be told. 

On the 18th day of August, 183-, near- 
ly three years after Eugene left Boston for 
Florida, a large and magnificent party were 
assembled to witness the union of Lieuten- 
ant Merrill and Effie Stanwood. The ser- 
vices were solemn and impressive ; the en- 
tertainments of the evening enlivened the 
brilliant and animated scene ; and all went 
‘ merry as a marriage bell.’ But the two 
happiest persons present, if we except the 
bride and bridegroom, were Catherine 
Ormsby and Edward Dawson. 

Notwithstanding the many brilliant and 
beautiful belles, who graced the bridal par- 
ty, the young officer’s wife was the bright 
star of attraction. None could gaze upon 
her without being entranced with her irre- 
sistible charms. Modest and unassuming, 
and 

* Thoughtless of Beauty, she was Beauty’s 
self.’ 



100 


THE WEST POINT CADET. 


Merrill, too, was one, whose noble, com- 
manding and graceful figure, and handsome 
features, elicited much attraction and ad- 
miration. The story of his brave deeds, 
and his two wonderful escapes from death, 
were freely commented upon. 

Merrill is still in the army, and he now 
ranks as Captain ; and at a distant post, he 
with his beautiful wife and lovely little ones, 
are enjoying this life with greater felicity 
than commonly falls to the lot of nine-tenths 
of mankind. The old nurse, Catherine 
Ormsby, resides with them, and to her is in- 
vested full management of the domestic 
concerns of this interesting family. The 
family circle is often increased by the fre- 
quent visits of Lieutenants Lee and Daw- 
son, who are attached to the same military 
post; the latter, through the influence of 
Merrill, and after receiving a degree from 
the Massachusetts Medical Society, obtain- 
ed the appointment of Surgeon in the army, 


ranking as lieutenant. His medical experi- 
ence having led him to the knowledge of 
the deleterious effects of opium and tobac- 
co, he discarded the use of it altogether, and 
he is now quite a hale, hearty, and temperate 
man, and looks ten years younger than he 
did at the time we first introduced him to 
our readers. 

‘ What has become of Jeff?’ we imagine 
we hear many ask. 

We lost sight of him in Florida at an in- 
teresting epoch, but we have since learned 
his fate. Jeff becoming ‘ disgwusted’ with 
the bad morals and cowardly conduct of his 
master, deserted him on the night after the 
battle of the Ouithlacoochee, and sought 
refuge with Osceola and his tribe. At the 
conclusion of the war, he was taken prison- 
er and reclaimed by Sumpter’s father, on 
whose plantation he is yet living. 

Thus ends our story. Reader, farewell. 



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